Will and Elizabeth: A Pirate's Life For Me
by Notebooked14
Summary: I remember everything. The day I saw Will Turner during a storm, a man overboard. The day everything changed. Will/Elizabeth
1. Chapter 1

**Will and Elizabeth: A Pirate's Life For Me**

I don't _consider_ myself as a pirate. I distance myself away from Captain - _Uncle _- Jack, and Barbossa, as much as possible. I make myself busy, cleaning the decks, cooking the meals, what have you. I enjoy being out at sea. Sitting by the window, watching those beautiful blue waves bounce and throw themselves at the ship. The excitement of it all makes everything worthwhile. Everyday's an adventure.

But that _does not_ make me a pirate. Does it?

My name's Elizabeth Swann. Orphaned, but I'm not seeking a shoulder to cry on. I lost my mother when I was a little girl, and my father not long after. I was sent to the only relative I had left: My Aunt, Veronica. She wasn't around, but her so-called husband was. ("In my defence," Jack would protest defiantly, "I didn't know it was an _actual_ marriage! I thought she was winding me up, savvy?")

Barbossa was his oldest friend. I mean oldest in the way that they've known each other the longest - but he is old too, I suppose, with a scraggly old beard I can't help but stare it, in a disgusted trance-like state. They're not _bad,_ you see, but they're pirates. Deviancy is embedded into their DNA, and you kind of get used to their antics eventually. Sometimes, they're quite funny, and my life could be a whole lot worse. Still - I refuse to participate in theft or anything else.

It happened on a Sunday night.

I was sitting on the deck with Jack, cradling a bottle of Rum. Which I had no intention of drinking, I assure you. I'm only seventeen. Besides, I don't see the point in drinking that _repulsive _beverage. Jack never listens though. I think he's kind of disappointed I'm not as free-wheeling as him. He always hands me a bottle of Rum.

"When I was your age," He slurred, and some of the Rum spilt as the ship bobbed up and down. The seas were violent today, the clouds above brewing up some kind of storm, if the distant thunder and lightning were anything to go by. "You couldn't pry my hands off the Rum! What's the matter with you? Your Aunt didn't like to drink either… Maybe it's a woman thing. You're all the same, with your corsets and mind-games and ringlets…"

I half-smiled. He's foolish, you have to admit, but it's hard not to find the stuff he comes out with occasionally funny. Barbossa was steering, clutching the compass and cursing under his breath - a valley of swear-words all directed at Jack, who refused to help. Preferring, naturally, to get drunk. Just your regular Sunday night. I remember exactly what I was doing, the images have stayed picture-perfect in my mind.

"What's that?" Barbossa had murmured audibly, and I glanced up, placing my unopened bottle of Rum to the floor where it rolled to the end of the swaying rapidly from side-to-side ship, leaving Jack to desperately scramble away after it. I stood up, wobbling slightly. You could spend years at sea and still get weary when caught in these kind of conditions. I walked towards to the edge, leaning out as far as possible, and I saw him at the same time Barbossa shouted, "Man overboard!"

Everything happened rather quickly after that. Barbossa ordered me to cast a line, and I grabbed a bundle of rope and worked quickly and efficiently; I was often needed in urgent times when Jack was practically comatose or acting like a raving lunatic. I was getting soaked by the spray of the sea - hardly anything unusual, and I remember how _freezing_ I was, drenched in paper-thin layers and shaking like a leaf. But I didn't care.

The man grabbed onto the rope, and I heaved to the best of my ability. It was hard pulling a man's entire weight with no help; I was tall and fairly slender with the body strength of a kitten. "Jack, you stupid idiot!" I shouted at my Uncle over my shoulder, thinking his assistance would've been nice. But no. He'd rather pursue a bottle of Rum, shouting pleadingly after it to stay. "Stupid, raving, drunken _imbecile!"_

_And finally. _

_At last._

_He clambered onto the deck, hitting his head hard on the wooden floors. Stunned, I dropped the rest of the rope and fell to my knees beside him. Pushing the wet hair out of his face and finding the man out cold. For a moment, my hand lingered on his face. He looked young, really. Maybe not my age exactly, perhaps a few years older. There was a clean cut slashed across his forehead, but other than that, I couldn't deny the fact he was… _

_Well, beautiful. _

_That was the day I met William Turner._

_The day everything changed._

_I love all things Pirates of the Caribbean. There are so many incredible Willabeth stories out there, so I decided to write my own seeing as I adore those two together. Like it, hate it?_


	2. Chapter 2

I waited for him to wake up. I didn't care if it took all night.

We were downstairs, and I was gently dabbing at the cut on his forehead, wondering how he sustained such an injury. It wasn't very deep, but I was afraid it would get infected. Truth be told, I had no idea how to treat wounds, but I was sure I'd handle it more delicately than Barbossa, or Jack at least. Who had sobered up considerably; enough to help me move the unconscious boy off the deck in the first place.

"Stay with him…" He said, eyeing him with suspicion. No concern to speak of - I think he was worried that we might be robbed. Of _what_, exactly? We weren't exactly hording treasure (at the moment), and even if he did attempt to, how would it go unnoticed? But I nodded anyway. Jack swaggered towards the door, probably to irritate Barbossa further. A favourite past-time. "When he comes to, ask his name, age, what have you. Want a pistol in case he's a violent chap?"

I merely rolled my eyes. I knew how to fire a pistol, how to use a sword. Expertly trained, but only because it seemed appropriate. I was, by association, a _pirate_ just like Jack and Barbossa. I had to be able to defend myself, hadn't I? But I'd never engaged in a fight, or threatened anybody come to think of it. Jack shrugged and flounced away. I turned back, continuing to gently touch the piece of cotton to the boy's forehead. Would it prevent it getting infected?

Unlikely, but I continued anyway. I studied his face; eyes thoroughly sweeping across his features. He _was_ handsome, I couldn't deny that. The more I looked, the more he became. I wondered what his eyes were like - just as remarkable as the rest of him? I didn't have much experience with boys, never courting anybody. Jack said I was a very odd girl, that I should be having the time of my life gallivanting around, like the women _he_ knows. I shuddered at the thought.

I fell asleep, eventually. I was truly exhausted. But I didn't want to have him wake up alone, not knowing where he was, or how he ended up overboard in the first place. No, I intended to spend all night waiting, but slowly my eyelids began to lower, and I fell asleep right beside him.

"Mergh?" I woke up, confused. Rubbing my weary eyes, not knowing whether it was day or night or anything in between. Glancing up, the skies through the window panes were dark; what time, exactly, was it? How many hours had passed? And _how_ had I fallen asleep? "Huh…" I sat up, realizing I had slept sprawled across the bed in my cabin, twisted into an uncomfortable angle. The next thing I realized was that there was somebody beside me.

I screamed.

"No, no, wait!" The boy said, alarmed. It took a minute for the memory to rush back - the person overboard, the boy I was to look after. He looked very different awake. When he slept, he was peaceful. Not that he was staring at me with open hostility - his brown eyes were kind, kinder than any I'd ever seen. But I was very aware that it was just _us_ - me and this boy I didn't even know. "I just woke up, I don't - I don't - I'm sorry, where am I?"

My frown dissolved. We were sitting close. Very close. Whereas I had spent hours beside him, caring for him, now the proximity of our bodies made my cheeks flood with colour. Hastily, I pulled away. Trying to steady the sound of my rather embarrassingly loud breathing. I could feel a pair of very confused eyes on me. "You're on the Black Pearl." I said in a rush. "We saw you, out at sea, or do you not remember? We helped you aboard."

At the sound of this, he paled considerably. I watched him, seeing the emotions flash across his eyes. "There was an accident," He recalled slowly, and his fingertips brushed the cut across his forehead. Wincing in pain as he did. "I can't remember much, though. Nothing. Wait…" He paused, looking up in shock. "Did you say The Black Pearl? _The_ Black Pearl?"

There was something in his voice I didn't like. "The one and only," I said coldly. I was in no position to get overly defensive - the ship may be my home, but I hadn't pledged devotion towards it. Still, I wanted to feel angry at him. Maybe then I could get my poor frantic heart to calm down. It was very unsettling. "Well, sorry we didn't let you drown then. We're terrible people, aren't we?"

"No-" He began to protest, shaking his head. "I'm sorry," He croaked, appearing genuinely apologetic. "I didn't mean for you to misinterpret that… I was just stunned. It's not everyday you wake up on a pirate ship. But thank-you. My name is Will. Will Turner."

I felt my face soften. Touched by his sincerity. True, I didn't have good instincts like Jack, who knew within ten seconds if a person was real, or if there was more than meets the eye. But it was hard imaging this person, _Will_, posing as any kind of threat. I very nearly smiled, and worked hard to not let my lips curve. I had a job to fulfil, didn't I? Jack asked me to find out all about him "Well, Will Turner." I liked saying his name. "Your age?"

"I'm twenty." He said weakly. "Listen, I'm sorry. I'm sorry if I offended you in any way… I mean, I didn't mean to. I have nothing against you, any of you. Trust me, I just-"

I held up a hand. Surprised at how harsh I came off. Why had my temper suddenly flared up, springing into unwanted action? I didn't want to be cruel. Somehow, it happened regardless. "To be honest, Mr Turner, I don't care what your take on pirates is. It doesn't matter, and don't think me affected by anything you say, because I'm not. And your occupation?" I enquired.

His apologies trailed off into nothing. He pushed the wavy brown hair out of his even darker eyes, looking very tired. "I'm a blacksmith." He spoke quietly.

"Very ambitious," I remarked.

"Not all of us aim as high as piracy," He replied, not matching my hard tone. Instead, he sounded defeated. I regretted my icy interrogations.

"I'm _not a pirate," I snapped at him. It bothered me when people thought otherwise. Yes, I could understand their assuming so. It didn't help I lived on a pirate ship, with my pirate uncle and his pirate best friend. Still, I didn't walk around like a pirate, and I definitely didn't act like one "You don't even know me. Who are you to pass judgement on me, anyway? We saved your life, you know." _

"_I didn't mean to pass judgement. You're right. I don't know you. What's your name?" He asked, surprising me again. There was something gentle in the way he spoke; the words sounded very soft, as if they weren't even words at all. For a moment, I stood there. Really, I should feel ashamed. Will had been in an accident, one of which he couldn't even recall, and I was treating him like he was something particularly disgusting._

_I opened my mouth to answer, finally, but there was no need to. The door burst open, and in swaggered Jack. I was thankful for the interruption on the one hand - I wanted to end mine and Will's exchange quickly, feeling terrible. On the other hand, my heart sank at the sight of him. Which was peculiar. Almost as if… As if I were disappointed at the intrusion. And that was a very, very bad sign._

"_Elizabeth!" He called, standing before me. He noticed Will. "You're alive," was all he said with childish optimism, before turning back to me. "Making quick stop to Tortuga. Very highly important business, cannot divulge with simple beings much like yourself. Was thinking of stopping overnight - No?" _

_I shot him a disgusted look, knowing that the excursion to Tortuga was nothing more than an excuse to gallivant around like an idiot, drinking, womanizing, the works, while I was left in a foul-smelling bar with men leering and grabbing and treating me like some piece of meat. Not my idea of fun. Shooting one last look at Will, I swept out of the room._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"I'm not going to Tortuga!" I screamed at Jack up on deck, so annoyed I could throw something. I've been known to. "Heaven's sake, we only just got back from Tortuga! It's vile! I refuse!"

"You seem to be forgetting that I'm Captain-"

"Co-Captain," Barbossa murmured under his breath audibly, still seemingly in a mood with my Uncle. I could say, I didn't blame him. "Co-Captain, you deceitful, crooked old bastard..."

"-And you do as I say. Got it?" Jack insisted, trying to insert some authority into the situation. It didn't have the desired effect. I tolerated Jack, but rarely obeyed. "You're suddenly angry! Mood-swings! Tantrums! There's nothing like a woman's fury. I knew it was bad luck to keep you. Should've sold you to the Romanian while I had the chance, but never you mind!"

I merely arched my eyebrows. Thoughts still with Will, alone, confused, on a strange ship filled with pirates. I wondered what he must be thinking right now? I wanted to apologize, feeling appalled with myself. But how could I possibly repair the diastrous first impression he must have of me? "You can forget it." I said simply, defiantly. I was stubborn when I needed to be.

"Can you just for one moment not be such a pain?" Jack pleaded. Sometimes, I could slap him. Sometimes, I actually _have_. Along with most other women on this side of the equator. "I took you in! Gave you a roof - ship - same difference. And food! Clothes! Didn't I steal you a pearl necklace once? This is what I get in return?"

He wasn't all that gracious about him being my legal guardian. In fact, I remembered clearly him raging, monologuing, declaring that he refused, that he was going to write a strongly-worded letter to just about anybody in order for them to cart me away. He kicked, screamed, worked himself into such a frenzy and only calmed down when I prepared dinner and he proclaimed me a little darling on the spot. My mood-swings were nothing compared to his.

"What about the boy?" Barbossa asked of me. Over the years, he's developed a habbit where he can zone Jack out at will. How I envied that little skill. "We leave him in Tortuga, aye? He not be trespassing on our hospitality any longer. What's his name anyhow?"

I sighed, shoulders slumped in defeat. I felt an uneasy twist in my stomach. We couldn't just leave Will in Tortuga, of all places. He was far from home. He didn't need to be marooned on a godforsaken island inhabited full of drunken idiots. An island full of Jacks. It was unbearable. "We're not just going to leave him at Tortuga," I told Barbossa matter-of-factly. "We'll ask, we'll ask him where he lives. And his name is William Turner."

"Turner?" He repeated, looking deep in thought. This was rare. Barbossa didn't have many thoughts; none of which required that level of deep concentration. "I know the name, I swear I do. Turner, Turner… He's not a-?"

I coolly cut across him. "He's not a pirate, no." I swept the windblown hair out of my eyes in order to see. "A Blacksmith, in fact." And I scowled at him when he burst into laughter.

"And you expect us to cross the seas and give him a free spin to wherever this Wendell hails from?" Jack scowled, not liking the idea. Not because it was so unreasonable, but because it was something I wanted. I guess he, too, can be stubborn as well. "Unlikely, Missy. It's Tortuga, and he should be happy we haven't tossed him back from where he came from. He's of no good use."

"We didn't save him for our own gain," I spat, disgusted. See, Jack was a good man, deep down under all the layers of sheer stupidity. Surely he had a soul? Good intentions? A heart - just like the rest of us? Maybe that was pushing it.

"Didn't we?" He shot back, grinning at me casually. I shrieked in frustration.

*

It was nearly morning. I hadn't slept, and I was already preparing food. It was a nice way to engage my mind in a non-pressing way. I enjoyed cooking - I guess maybe my Mother took the same interest, and I smiled. We had something in common, after-all. I should be in a typical family manor, in my own kitchen with my Mother, yet I was miles at sea on the Black Pearl, making breakfast for a pair of pirates and… and… Will.

I hadn't seen him since our encounter last night. An encounter that still made me want to burn with shame. How could I be so reckless? But never mind. The breakfast was intended as a peace offering, to let him know we were nice. Well, that I was anyway. I don't think he gathered a good impression of Jack (who did?) or Barbossa, who he only heard shout, "Ah, me shoe, me shoe's gone and I know you be the one who took it, you fool!" at the crack of dawn.

Tempted. I was tempted to check him, see if he was okay. I stopped myself just in time.

"Good morning." I knocked once, twice on the wood-panelled door. Surprised to find him standing by the window, and I noticed how tall he was. Very tall, actually. He looked up at the sound of the door, and I couldn't read his expression as he saw me. I cringed inwardly. "I didn't know what you liked." I said apologetically, gesturing to the pieces of buttered bread, and the fresh fruit, and the bowl of porridge. Truth be told, he didn't have much food. Jack squandered most money away on drink and a ridiculous gambling habbit. "I knew you'd be starving."

A smile touched his lips. He really was handsome. In a very obvious way; looking so indescribable that thinking about it made me smile too. There was a moment, and we just looked at each-other. He didn't hold a grudge, and I was taken with how much … Well, how much of a gentleman he was. I'd never met somebody so composed before. For that moment, I wanted to be beautiful. A silly thing to wish for! Taking into consideration I didn't even know him. But I wanted to become the kind of girl that boys, such as Will, liked. Instead, I was nothing exceptional. A girl aboard a pirate ship in a bunch of tattered old clothes. He looked puzzled at my frown.

"Thank-you," He said huskily, walking towards me. His clothes were terribly tattered too, and I hoped that I'd manage to find some of Jack's old things that would fit nicely. I'd hand-wash the rags Will currently wore. They were probably nice clothes once, but were torn all over. I didn't mean to look, but my eyes travelled to the skin revealed through the countless tears - the cut on his forehead wasn't the only injury. I wondered if the countless cuts slashed across his chest and arms hurt? He accepted the tray, laying it down on the oak table. "Not just for the food. I didn't get a chance to fully express how grateful I am."

"That was my fault. I was terribly rude last night, wasn't I? I didn't mean to be. Apparently, word on the ship is I've got a bit of a temper. Honestly, I've been thinking about it all night…" Don't sound like an obsessive idiot, Elizabeth! "…Well, I've been thinking about it a lot. We got off to a bad start. Am I forgiven?"

There was something so gentle as he smiled again. Something so very tender. "Of course," he breathed, a lovely sound. "Elizabeth, isn't it?"

I nodded. "Elizabeth Swann." I slipped into a seat. "You met my Uncle - Jack Sparrow. You've probably read about him, he's _that _Jack Sparrow. And there's Barbossa also. He's slightly unhinged - and his grammar will make you want to shake him until he stops talking!" I laughed. He talked like the pirates you read of in story-books. "They're harmless, though. Not as bad as some people may imagine. But don't trust them for a second!" I warned.

"And… You're not a pirate?" He asked softly, picking up an apple and sitting opposite me. He was so close. If I moved fowards slightly, our knees would touch. I deliberated, but then thought better of it. "Last night… I just assumed."

"I'm not. My slate is entirely clean, I assure you. I'm more of a maid-type person on board; I help out, do what I can. Cook, clean, rescue men overboard. That kind of thing. Life's more interesting that way."

He chuckled lightly. "I was on a friend's ship," He told me without prompting. "I guess something went wrong. I must've fallen. I can't remember. It's lucky you even saw me out there." He held my gaze, and we shared another delicious, silent moment when everything halted except us. Even the sound of the morning waves lapping against the ship faded into nothingness as his eyes held mine. Slowly, I broke out of overwelmingly intimate look.

I shrugged, as if it were nothing when it truly was. I felt myself beginning to blush, under the attention of those lovely brown eyes. "20/20 vision." I paused. "Where were you sailing? Or is strictly confidential and not fit to tell?" I teased.

"No, nothing like that." He really was starving. He'd finished the fruit, and began on the porridge. I felt bad for not bringing food down before, but I wasn't aware he'd be so kind, as if I hadn't been utterly awful towards him last night. "On my way back to Port Royal - where I live," he added to my bewildered expression. Port Royal? That was where I had grown up, with my parents. How peculiar we came from the same island... "I'd been sent on errands, collect new materials, visit business associates. Always very dull. Being a Blacksmith isn't as exciting as it looks."

"I taught myself how to handle a sword," I told him, then wondered why. Did I want us to have something in common? A link between the two of us? Was I that desperate to have something that would tether me to him? I was taken aback by own fowardness. "It's quite difficult to get used to it; but it's more of a safety precaution than anything else, really."

"You taught yourself?" He sounded in awe, impressed. I looked downwards to the surface of the cluttered table, and tried to glance up below my lashes. It was hard focusing on the words he was saying, all I wanted to do was shamefully stare. Something was very, very unsettling about the way my stomach knotted and bloomed with butterflies; how I couldn't calm down my frantically beating heart, and how I felt so nervous that I could barely think straight. A very odd reaction. But then he looked concerned. "Let's hope you never have to put your newly-acquired skills into action."

"I can take care of myself." I tried not to make my voice sound brutally harsh once more. "I'm no damsel in distress."

"No, you're not." Will agreed, and we shared another laugh. "It seems you're the one doing the saving around here."

*

Will was summoned to Jack's chambers. The invitation didn't extend to me - I only found out from Barbossa. Enraged, I stormed in to find Jack holding a sword to his throat.

"What are you _doing_?" I shrieked, seeing nothing but the flash of red from my temper. Staring in horror at the awful scene unravelling before me. "Put down your weapon! Jack, what's the meaning of this? JACK!"

Slowly, Jack lowered his sword with a daring grin. Will, I saw, eyed him with a weary, familiar dislike blazing in his hardened brown eyes. This was how people reguarly responded to Jack. Especially when he took to threatening them whilst they remained defenceless. "Easy, easy love. I was just asking Wendell to examine my sword - he's a Blacksmith, don't ya know."

I glowered. There wasn't time to feel embarassed at my misintepration of this little exchange, my anger hadn't yet subsided. "Yes, I _do_ know," I said acidly, trying to make each syllable cold and full of the hatred that I felt at the moment. "Perhaps you rest the sword down? That's hardly any way to treat your guests."

"Guests?" He laughed in my face. Oh, in one swift movement I would close the short distance between me and my uncle and slap him; I wanted to leave my handmark etched into his tanned, marred-with-dirt face. He met Will's stare, outlined eyes narrowing with deep suspicion. "If I see one, I shall be sure to extend all the kindness of my heart and make them some tea. He's not a guest, young Lizzy, but a tyrant. A spy, sent to infiltrate. Do fetch Barbossa, he has my pistol..."

"Are you out of your mind?" I demanded. Jack nodded animatedly, and I let out a groan of frustration. "You are being unimaginably ridiculous. He was involved in an accident, did you honestly think for a moment he was sent - _sent! _- to gather information? Do not think too highly of yourself, Uncle. I doubt that you're the most sought-after pirate roaming these seas - at least not to necessitate actual _spies."_

Jack shrugged, not in the least affected by my speech. Instead, he raised his sword once more to trace across Will's chest; directly above his heart. "You won't be making a mockery of me, mate. We dock in Tortuga soon - you can bugger off and paddle your way home."

"Thanks for the deep sentiment," Will replied coolly. I was surprised at his unflinching tone, the way he steadily met Jack's gaze and held it defiantly. He didn't even shrink in the prescence of pirates! Not even ones that wouldn't think twice of killing him. I wouldn't put it past Jack... But no, he couldn't... "The mockery has already been made, I assure you, at your own hand."

Jack arched his eyebrows, bewildered. He opened his mouth to retort, then hesitated. He turned to me, opening and closing his mouth like a particuarly perplexed goldfish. "Did he just insult me?"

"My point exactly," Will said, with a hint of a smile. I was amazed by his courage, more than should be natural. I nearly mirrored his smile - it was always a pleasant sight to see Jack at a loss for words, but I stopped my lips from curving. This overwelming effect he had over me was remarkably strange. "I'll find my own way home at arrival in Tortuga. Thankyou very, _very_ much," He said, and I heard the taunting edge to his words. I laughed out loud.

"Jack..." The sooner I sent him away, the better. I placed a hand on his arm in order to steer him away. We began walking towards the door. "Go make yourself useful somewhere else, and let's leave Mr Turner alone, shall we?"

But the moment I said 'Mr Turner', Jack stopped suddenly, that I crashed into his back and stumbled back. Will's hands rushed out to catch me; an unnecessary gesture, seeing as I managed to hold myself upright. I looked at his hands, and the way they moved so fast in order to prevent the fall, and pondered over this until I remembered Jack, and reluctantly tore my eyes away. There was that gleam in his pupils, colour in his cheeks, and that achingly familiar smile - he'd just thought of something.

And when Jack thought of something, it was never bound to be good for anybody. Apart from himself, of course. Every thought that fluttered through that thick skull of his only revolved around him, and how he could profit from it. He turned back to Will, and smiled crookedly. "I hope you find your stay here very pleasant, boy." Then he flounced away.

**I love hearing what you have to say. Big or small, I love every single review, and thanks for everybody's feedback so far.**


	4. Chapter 4

**4.**

Three days later, and I was suspicious. It should've taken a day to reach Tortuga - The Black Pearl was renowned ocean-wide for it's speed. Yet why the delays? I took to watching Jack and Barbossa, often deep in discussion. It was strange, how they worked to have their conversations concealed; spoken in whipsers so that my eavesdropping ears couldn't decipher the hurried rush of excited words. What on _earth_ were they planning?

The only other time they had acted this way was last year, when they arranged to sell me to a Romanian wineseller for a small sum and plenty of drink. I was only sixteen, but it didn't seem to matter. I had watched them with narrowed eyes, wondering over the meanings of their many meetings, all conducted quietly, but never knowing for a minute that they were plotting to get rid of me! Luckily, Jack had a bout of rare conscience and cancelled everything. "Only because I can't cook, see?" He'd protest. "Those culinary skills are simply extraordinary, dear little Lizzy!"

Now, they were acting exactly the same. And I had a terrible preminition of why...

Will. Three days later, and I was fascinated. We talked for hours at a time. I'd creep down to his room at night where he'd be awake, waiting, and he'd talk until the stars began to fade and the skies began to lighten, and the sun began to pour through the windows; so alarmingly bright that it lit up the room; lighting up his smile even more. It was nice, having somebody to talk to. Somebody my own age too, for he was only three years older than my seventeen. He told me about Port Royal, his work, the people, the unfortunate time that he once fell into the sea after a cow kicked him right in the stomach...

And I told him about life on a pirate ship, the countless times we'd been chased by the East India Trading Company and various other rivals, the unclaimed islands we'd found, with the sands so gentle beneath my feet, and how I longed to settle down on one of them, and the story of the Romanian wineseller, and I told him about the pirate islands - Tortuga, especially. It was bizzarre, but he listened, intently, to every word there was to say. Never tiring at the sound of my voice, always watching me softly, laughing his infectious little laugh, and sometimes when I'd pause for breath I'd look up to find him smiling.

Jack no longer treated him apallingly; instead, with uncharacteristic kindness. Enough that Will was allowed on deck, to breath in the fresh sea air and stretch his legs. I felt a pang of deep sympathy at the thought of him stuck in that claustrophic room. I lost count of the amount of times we walked the length of the Pearl; each step on the floorboards could tell a story of their own. Three days together, and it felt like a lifetime. How could I feel so comfortable, so light-headed and dizzy and exhilarated, all at once? I wondered - _I hoped_ - the feelings were returned.

"Drink?" Jack offered on the third evening, arms full of unopened bottles. Eagerly, he pressed one into my hand. I pulled a face and hastily returned it. Not wanting Will to gather the wrong idea, as if I were a regular drunkard. Jack's smile didn't falter; he offered mine to Will instead. I was surprised when he took it.

"You drink?" I enquired when Jack was out of earsight. We sat on the small flight of steps, where I had sat before I had pulled him aboard. I shouldn't be surprised; he was a young man, afterall. Twenty-years old. Maybe he had a girl of his own at home, and maybe instead of questioning him she smiled sweetly and drank rum too. I nearly shuddered, feeling oddly territorial. Will wasn't _mine_. He could be with whoever he liked. I ignored the sinking sensation in my stomach and smiled, trying not to sound so judgemental.

"Not very often," he admitted with a sheepish smile. "I'm not the kind of person you'd see staggering out of bars, but sometimes, on the occasion..." He shrugged, pushing the hair out of his eyes. "Takes my mind off things, I suppose."

"What kind of things?" I asked before I could help myself. I wondered if I had trespassed on any carefully drawn boundaries, if maybe he didn't want to tell me the things he'd rather not dwell on. But he answered, never failing to give me that look of such kindness. As if he'd answer anything I asked, merely because I had asked.

"I like the sea." He said, and that wasn't what I had expected. "It gives me peace, looking at the water. It's rather calming. This has been enjoyable-" He meant _this_ as being on board, not _this_ as being with me. Unfortunately - "Anytime I'm at sea it's enjoyable. Sometimes though, I can't help but grieve... My father died at sea." He spoke quietly, taking a deep, long drink. "Most of the time, I get by with my business so I don't have time to think. He died eight years ago," He told me.

I blinked up at him. He sat on the step above me, body turned so that he could see me as he spoke. I watched him lounge against the wood, and was struck by his features. The more time I spent with him, the more he stole my breath. I'd never met anybody more captivating; and my heart was beating like crazy, like it always did when I found him so touchably close. I felt giddy, like I wanted to scream. And I felt frustrated, like I wanted to cry. Then guilt washed over me. Here he was, speaking of his dead father, whereas all I could think of was the way the sun bounced off his wavy hair, making me wonder how it would feel to rake my hands through it... "I didn't realize we had that in common," I said softly. "My parents died at sea too."

And then he looked disgusted. Not at me, but at himself. "Listen to me..." He said, and he slumped fowards so that he was sitting beside me. The closeness was going to be the death of me. Regretfully, he shook his head. "Here I talk of losing my father when you sit here, having lost both your parents. I'm such a fool."

"No..." I said, wanting to tell him that I was very young when I was orphaned; so young that most memories I had of both mother and father were rather obscured, blurred images, and that the fact that he lost his father at twelve was significently worse, for he could still painfully recall it, so much that he needed to drink to forget. My hand laid over his. I wanted to communicate to him that his suffering was more than mine, but there was no need for words.

He looked at our hands, then looked at me and jumped a foot in the air when Jack descended upon us. Arms shooting back to our sides, but I'm sure Jack, more observant than he may seem, saw. Why else would there be there the tiny ghost of a smile playing on the corners of his mouth? "Change of plan." He said brightly, swigging from the bottle of rum in his right hand, then the bottle in his left. "Eliza-beth," He said, speaking my name as if it were, in fact, the names 'Eliza' and 'Beth' joined together. "You know the drill. You need to make a quick stop at Tortuga."

I nodded. Will, however, looked alarmed. "_Alone_?" He cried out. He had plently of reason to worry. I had told him enough stories of Tortuga, of the endless brawls, fist-fights and disgusting old men, and I felt a certain satisfaction that he did not like the sound of me venturing

Jack waved him away. "Well, _I _can't go," He said, as if Will should've known, as if it were painfully obvious. "I owe everybody money, and if Marianne see's me alive, I'm dead!"

"Marianne?" I asked. I didn't recognize the name.

"You know the one?" Jack exclaimed. "Blonde? Unfortunate facial mole? One nostril bigger than the other? I got Barbossa to tell her I died tragically at sea - she started talking about _marriage._" He shuddered, a deep tremor rippling throughout his body. "Imagine! So if she see's me, then _guranteed_ I'm done for. Can't have none of that." He said sternly.

"But what of Gabriella?"

"Gaby?" His face brightened, suddenly perking up when I mentioned his _other_ girl, the brunette with the friendly smile. "I haven't thought about her in ages. But she has a terrible odour about her, something nasty, no? She made me smell. She made the whole ship smell. You remember how many months it took to scrub the stench out."

"Because you have the highest sense of hygiene going?" I retorted sourly. I think Jack has a very selective memory. Goodness knows when he had last washed. It wasn't worth thinking about. I turned to Will, owing him an explanation. "When Jack doesn't want to run into familiar faces, I go instead, stock up on the essentials-"

"Rum, food, rum and clothes for Eliza." Jack finished with a cheery grin. "Women and their fashion! She's not bad-looking though, as far as girls go. Nasty temper. Nasty little left hook too - never mess with her, or you'll start to find mysterious clumps of seaweed hidden in your food. She's crafty that way mate, take a bite of chicken leg, for example, and then you taste something strange, and you know it's not meant to be there, and you chew to investigate, then you want to vomit when you place it! - _Dirt. _She seasons your food with dirt! Women," Jack said solemnly. "At least Veronica was okay. Well, I mean that in the relative sense, for many a time I woke up, drifting at sea, completely nake-"

"He rambles when he's drunk," I told Will, and we laughed together. Jack often talked of Veronica, 'The love of my bloody existence, mate!' He was fond enough of her to marry her at least, although he claims that it was all her idea, that he thought she was kidding around, and that he was far too intoxicated to take anything seriously. She died, though. I never asked how, worried that the subject matter might be too difficult for Jack. I maintain that they were in love. I'm a hopeless romantic. "Ignore it."

"Dirt?" Will said, chuckling to himself, as if he couldn't get over it. We succumbed to another round of laughter. I looked at him sideways, enjoying the way he laughed at something he wasn't there to wittness, but laughed regardless, as if he could imagine me firmly in his mind and liked the mental image. I never wanted it to leave his thoughts, I wanted him to store it somewhere secure and take it out late at night, so that he could always see me clearly even when I wasn't there.

For at night when I couldn't sleep, I took to thinking of him, and his wavy hair, those lovely brown eyes that looked over me so delicately, and that heart-fluttering smile, and his simply handsome face, perfect in every aspect, managing to knock me breathless even after nights of fantasizing about it in careful detail. Nothing could compare to the real deal.

Barbossa, annoyed at what was taking so long, stormed towards us. He too had a fiery temper, and once locked me in my room for an entire week after an argument in which I declared him vulgar with foul breath. I don't get any special treatment, being related to Jack. No benefits at all. In fact, I think the fact we were related probably was the reason for his dismissive attitude towards me. "Jack," He snapped, acknowledging his friend. "Elizabeth. _Mr Turner,_" he said, with a sneer and a smile which showed all of his decaying teeth. "Why the waiting?"

"I'm going, I'm going." I got to my feet, not liking the arrangement one bit, but it was routine. I was surprised to feel Will's hand acting as a restraint, pulling me back in a protective way. He looked at Jack and then Barbossa, as if willing them to protest. They didn't, both exchanging a look full of mischief.

"It's impolite to allow a lady to walk anywhere alone." Will said huskily, getting to his feet and towering over me. "I shall accompany her."

I was thrown. There was joy at how caring this gesture was, yet a twinge of annoyance, so small it may not even exist. Did I look incapable of going to Tortuga, alone? I could work a sword, fire a pistol, knee a man in _that_ area. Often, in Tortuga, I _did_ knee men in that area. They got terribly 'handsy.' But the flicker of agitation soon died, and I didn't shoot down his offer. It wasn't much of an offer, more of a matter-of-fact statement. Very interesting. Very irrisistable.

"Be my guest, mate," Jack said with a smirk, and we could hear his and Barbossa's curiously triumphant laughter as me and Will swept away.

**I'm sort of coming up with ideas as I write this, but I promise plenty more of Will/Elizabeth soon - just bear with me! I promise to update more, thankyou for everybody that have reviewed and added this story to their favourites. You guys make me smile! **


	5. Chapter 5

**5.**Welcome to Tortuga. I shuddered as my feet touched the ground.

Honestly, it truly _was_ vile, with people crying out drunkenly and fights breaking out at the most tiniest of things. Most of the locals knew my face - "Oi, you're pirate girl!" - and stared shamelessly as I passed through the dirty streets. I felt Will walk beside me, and when I stole a sideways glance I saw him peering at the town in shock. It was a new experience for him, I would imagine. The week started for him assumingly smoothly - as a Blacksmith's apprentice running errands.

And somehow, it had ended with him on board the notorious Black Pearl, visiting the pirate island of Tortuga? It was very surreal. But nothing seemed to faze him. If it were me, I'd be absolutely terrified. Everything about Will was calm, unnaturally gentle. In a world full of liars and deceit, his sincereity was something sacred, something amazing. I expected him to snap any minute - surely there is a limit of how much one person can take? But no, he never faltered.

"Lovely, isn't it?" I said, having to shout over the deafening noise. "A real gem."

Will and I were united in our shared dislike, and he nodded with a weak smile. He followed me as I carefully picked my way along the over-crowded streets. First, to collect a few crates of him with the little gold that I had clanging in my pocket. Then to gather some fresh fruit and vegetables. There was no need to bother purchasing new dresses - everything, apart from the renowned bars - seemed closed. I wasn't a girl that _needed_ to be extraordinary; I knew I was plain-looking with a few pieces of tattered clothes. There was no need to pretend I was something I wasn't with some pretty frills.

"You come here often?" Will asked me, seeing the way the men responded towards. I wasn't flattered at their attentions, for they reacted in the same way to every female. It was nothing personal. I tried to ignore their hungry looks, raising my head defiantly and giving them icy, death-like glares. Oh, how I wished to pose as a threat, to strike intimidation into their hearts, to make them back off like the startled idiots they were. It wasn't fun, appearing weak and defenceless. I knew I was more than capable of taking them on.

"Unfortunately..."

"And Jack doesn't mind?" Will exclaimed. He really had no idea at all, did he? I smiled a humourless smile. Jack didn't harbor any love towards his one and only niece, of course he had no quelms with me passing through Tortuga. "He lets you come here? Unprotected?"

"You have much to learn!" I said with a little cackle.

I approached Marty, Jack's regular supplier, purchased two crates full of rum and deposited them on the pier, where the Pearl was floating nearby. "He's my Uncle through marriage," I explained. "He married my Father's sister - Veronica. She died some time ago. I don't know any details. I'm afraid to ask, if I'm to be honest."

"Afraid?" Will looked bewildered, shaking his head at the word as if it were not an accurate description of me at all. I was touched. "It's hard to imagine you being afraid, Ms Swann. You manage admirably for such a young woman."

Admirably? Me?

Well, perhaps. I felt my cheeks flood with colour at his praise of my character. The words were spoken with that quiet, velvety softness. "You can call me Elizabeth," I reprimanded him. We went through this daily, for he never addressed me by my first name. Was he merely being a gentleman, or taking precautions so that we didn't become so close? Did he not want my friendship? For he treated me like I was a girl worth more than I was. Yet sometimes he acted as if he didn't want us to become _too _familiar. "And I'm not that young. Don't preach, Will, when there's not many years between us."

He held up his hands, a sign of mocking defeat. "Please don't tell me I've angered the infamous temper once again?" His tone was teasing, but it bothered me. I wish he wasn't so hard to read. I wish that he felt the same way. I knew that he didn't. For how could I fall into such an abundance of good luck, to attain somebody like _him_? "It's not in my intentions to annoy you, Ms Swa- Elizabeth."

"Yet you succeed regardless," I snapped irritably. Suddenly, I was in no mood to continue prowling around Tortuga. I wanted to get back on board, shut myself in my room and pray for sleep to arrive early. I wanted, no - _needed - _a break from my own thoughts. A thousand of them screeched to be heard at once, giving me the monster of all headaches. "Sometimes, I don't know why I bother in being kind to you. What's the point, anyhow? Soon we'll arrive in Port Royal and we'll never have to see eachother again."

He looked pained. "Please don't be mad," he said gently. He tilted my chin up to face him, as my eyes had been firmly planted on the ground beneath us. I hated feeling so powerless! I hated the way he made me feel, and I hated the way he acted as though it were nothing. His hand cupped my face, and despite the less-than-ideal cirumstances, I liked the way his hand felt. We'd never shared _this_ kind of closeness before. He was standing so near, that if I shifted ever so slightly our noses would brush. I deliberated, before deciding to stay very still. Not wishing to break this moment.

"I'm not mad." I whispered to him. I wasn't. My temper had retreated hastily. "I'm not mad at all."

"You don't have to be so defensive all the time, you know," he breathed. "You could let your guard down for once. You could be happy."

"Beg pardon?" I was about to argue, but my shoulders slumped in defeat. How could Will, somebody who had only known me for three days, get an understanding of my happiness? Or lack of? Living on the Black Pearl wasn't a life of luxury, and Jack wasn't particuarly fond of me, and I'd stumbled through my adolescence mostly alone. I took to daydreaming frequently; dreaming up a different life. Because no matter how much I loved the sea, I longed for something else that was snatched from me.

Normalcy.

I wanted a house. Not a manor, with three floors and staff of servants, but just a simple house and nothing of magnificence. I wanted the things I didn't have. A family. A loving atmosphere. A regular life. Jack would say, seeing my melancholy state, that he'd find me a husband if I was _that_ badly desperate for one. I didn't want the vermin that he would conjure! I wanted somebody real. Will was right. All I wanted to be was blissfully happy.

"We should... Get back to the Pearl," I said slowly. Being so vulnerable wasn't suited to my liking. I moved away.

"Party!" Jack cried out with delight at the sight of the rum. Gleefully, he turned to Barbossa. "Party?"

Barbossa let out a sigh and refused to dignify him with a reponse. Not at all deflated, Jack eagerly whirled around to face me and Will. "C'mon!" He said at the lack of enthusiasm. "You only live once! Seize the day - all of that nonsense, savvy? You! Niece!" He grabbed my arm and twirled me around. "Must you look so blue? Figuratively," he added as an afterthought. "You look rather pale if I may be so bold as to say."

"I don't feel well," I snapped at him. "Go drink yourself into a coma."

"Happy to, M'lady." He let go, and I stumbled slightly before finding my balance and scowling deeply. I wasn't lying - my head hurt ridiculously, I felt as though I might throw up any minute and the more I stood, the more dizzier my mind became. Even now, Jack's features became more and more obscured. "Wendell? Would you be so kind as to have a drink with your Cappy?"

Will shook his head, watching me. My skin burned under his scrutinizing stare. I could almost feel him willing me to look up. Instead I turned on my heel to find comfort in the solitude of my room.

I thought I was dreaming.

I heard the shouts, the blasts of a cannon, the sound of Barbossa furiously barking at somebody. A dispute among captains once again? What else was new...

Then, Wills voice.

Must my subconcious mind torture me also? Could I find no peace anywhere on this damned ship?

Annoyed, I got to my feet, ready to give Jack and Barbossa a piece of my mind. If they were to argue - which they inevitably must - couldn't they do it a more reasonable hour? They were, I had to admit grimly, pirates. Being nuisances was a given.

On deck, I stumbled sleepily fowards. I ignored the dull aching of my head, the way my eyes hadn't focused to the darkness, and the way it was so cold I had already began to shiver. I saw a group of figures nearby, and opened my mouth to yell abuse at my lunatic of an Uncle, when I stopped.

"... And what will we be having in return for our act of such courageous kindness?" It was Jack. I could place that drawl anywhere. "Don't think this is going to go unrewarded mate. Step up, pay up. I daresay we haven't all night - I wouldn't be surpised if his ship is attempting to track him down right now!"

"_Fine." _This voice was cold, and certainly not Barbossa. An old acquintance? There were many of Jack's associates always drifting nearby, waiting to do business. But I couldn't match this voice to a certain memory, and I was sure I'd never met the owner. It was different. Not dripping with arrogance or deep self-assurance, but something more sinister and very unsettling. "You're a cruel man, Jack Sparrow," It crooned. "But I'm a man of my word."

"Do you use the word 'man' loosely?" Jack inquired, sounding overjoyed. Clearly, he had just triumphed - I recognized the celebratory tone. "Do you even have - er - parts?"

"Enough! I'll honour my end of the deal - I have the boy, and therefore your debt to me is settled. You're a hundred percent certain it is him?"

In the darkness, I could tell my Uncle was grinning. "Oh, a hundred and seventy-three, mate. He's the one and only. Bootstrap's _only_ son. Captain of The Grey Herald. He's Will Turner all right, and he's finally been captured."

**I had no idea where this chapter was going and decided to go for a bit of a twist. Love it, hate it? I really want to hear what you all have to think. Thanks (:**


	6. Chapter 6

**6**.

"Elizabeth? Elizabeth, are you alright?"

My eyelids fluttered open, blinked rapidly, and then closed once more at the overwhelming brightness that threatened to blind me. Where was I? The feeling of the breeze ruffle through my hair told me that I was lying on deck. I couldn't grasp onto the fact of _how,_ or _why,_ but the concentration caused the throbbing pain in the back of my head to go work into overdrive, and I let out a groan.

"Elizabeth?" It was Jack. He was shaking me, and I felt myself rattle like a doll. "Can you hear me? For heaven's sake, girl! C'mon, up with you. Is the fainting thing really necessary?"

I had fainted? Slowly, my eyes opened once more, and stayed open. Jack cracked a smile, and pulled me up to my feet roughly. My muscles ached at the movement, and I was weary on my own two feet, as though they might buckle any minute. Looking at my Uncle, I tried to recall something. I felt an underlying rage at him, and couldn't place why. There was always a reason for holding a grudge against Jack, and if only I could sift through the pain in my head...

"Will!" I screamed, remembering. Jack grimaced at the noise, clutching his ears. "What have you done?" I grabbed him by the front of his ragged clothes. He could swat me away as effortlessly as though I were an intrusive insect, yet he didn't budge. "What have you _done_, you foul excuse for a man!"

"I think somebody's over-reacting..." Jack said in a cheery sing-song voice. Nothing could have enraged me further. "Do take a deep breath, dear little lass. That shade of red does nothing for you."

Barbossa in the background chuckled deeply, but I didn't dwell on it. My fury was directed solely for Jack.

"Let's work on the volume of them screams, shall we?" He caught both my wrists in one swift action, holding them tightly. I tried to scratch away at him, but it was no use. I felt like a woman possessed. "We know you're not a morning bird, but this is pushing it a bit, ay? Sit down, cup of tea will soothe those frazzled nerves..."

"Shut up!" I so badly wanted to claw away at him, to personally remove that ridiculous smirk off his face. He wasn't in the least affected by me; on the contrary he seemed to find it rather amusing. As if my hysteria was only a form of entertainment, conducted with the only purpose to make him smile. "Where is he? What did you do with him? Why did you send him away? Jack, look at me!"

"Eliza, Eliza, _Eliza." _He tutted, tilting his head at me. Looking me over as I were a disgraced student. I had never hated him more in my life; I didn't care what harm would befall him in that moment. I wouldn't even care if he dropped like a stone to the floor, dead. "I can't answer all those questions on my onesy, can I? Barbossa, you scurvy nitwit, would you care to help me drill the joyful news into my niece's outrageously thick skull?" He forced me into a chair.

"Arr, t'would be a pleasure." Barbossa let out another derisive laugh. They were both celebrating their impressive feat, but why, and for what purpose? How could they possibly benefit from getting rid of Will so unceremoniously? There was nothing for them to gain. There was only everything for me to lose. "Ms Swann, why the long face? As I recall, I thought you didn't have much time for _pirates._"

I froze. It was incorrect. I knew it wasn't the truth. Will, a pirate? It was nothing but a fabrication; somebody so kind-hearted and sincere could never be such a thing. I set my jaw as though it were made of stone. I refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing me fall. Even if it took all the strength I could gather from my drained and beaten body, I wouldn't let them see me cry. "Will isn't a pirate." I spoke each word slowly. "He's a Blacksmith. There was no need to hand him away for a small sum! We were going to take him back to Port Royal. What have you _done!_"

I flew at Jack, my arms flailing around pathetically, hoping to collide into the sides of his face. Any damage that I could conflict would be enough. I was hysterical, uncontrollable, and Barbossa grabbed me with rough, unwashed hands, pulling me back with so much force that something in my arm made a sickening cracking sound, leaving me to houl in pain.

Jack removed a gnarled fingernail from his ear, and expected what he had found. He said almost lazily and without glancing upwards, "Hector. Would you kindly escort her away, I am fearing a migraine on the horizon."

"I hate you!" I cried out, trying to protest but Barbossa was a stronger man than Jack, and trying to fight him off was like trying to move a solid brick wall with only sheer determination. I had no shame as my tears freely fell. I had no shame as I screamed at him, vocal cords shredding, and I'm sure every boat positioned along the ocean could hear me. "You're not a man! _I hate you!_"

Barbossa dragged me to my room, and when I missed my footing and fell to the floor in a pathetic heap, he proceeded without hesitation. The pain in my arm was like nothing else. I was definite that it was broken, and he continued to pull me aggressively along. My hurting arm was twisted in an impossible angle, carrying my whole weight while I screamed in absolute agony. When we reached my ajar door, he threw me in and slammed it, leaving me to cry until I sank to the floor and did not resurface.

**Short chapter, but I really wanted to update again. As always, your reviews mean everything. I'm sorry to tear Will and Elizabeth apart but don't worry - they'll be more of Willabeth in later chapters. Thankyou (:**


	7. Chapter 7

**7.**

Five days I spent in silence. I lay carefully on my bed, for even the tiniest movement would cause my arm to ache. I learnt to turn off to starving stomach - it was clear I was being punished. Never before had they left me this long without food or water, and I hated them both so fiercely, it felt like such overpowering resentment couldn't possibly belong inside of me. I could hear them talking - I learnt to turn that off, too.

I felt lost, and drifted in and out of conciousness. I meant to keep track of the hours, but now I'd forgotten. When I was awake, and when I had surrendered to exhaustion, Will was always the one constant thing on my mind. The last time I had seen him, seen him clearly, I had ignored him. Carefully not meeting his gaze and sweeping away, too immature to repair the damage laying between us. And now? I heard Jack's words once again, for they'd tormented me all week.

"Captain of The Grey Herald... And he's finally been captured..."

It wasn't _true_. He had told me, so genuinely, of life as a blacksmith in Port Royal. I didn't have much experience with people, I was only seventeen and didn't get a grasp of how they operated, but I could tell, from only one look at his soft, brown eyes, that he was telling me the truth. A pirate? It was an inconceivable thought. More to the point, it was ridiculous. It was a mistake, Jack had thought wrong. It happened often. Will shouldn't have to pay for his act of utter, undiluted recklessness.

I wanted to turn off my frantic mind as well. It whirred into overdrive, splintering into a thousand different memories which I didn't want to dwell on. I didn't want to be reminded with heartbreaking accuracy of Will's face, and his affectionate smile and how he laughed and even in the midst of one of my famous tempers, I wanted to laugh too. I realized sadly that of course I couldn't be unaffected - of course I cared. I cared so much that I wanted to weep into my pillows constantly, that I wished for terrible things to happen to Jack and Barbossa, and that nothing mattered - _nothing_ - apart from Will Turner.

"Eliza?" It was Jack. I bit my tongue, not wishing to answer. If he stood there in silence long enough, he'd turn on his heel and leave. It had been five long days, possibly more, and now he decided to pay me a visit? He could forget it. "Eliza - Elizabeth? Don't tell me your crying again?"

"Of course I'm not crying," I snapped despite myself.

"Love, we've heard you cry all week." He walked closer, maybe wearily. He had nothing to fear - the excruciating pain in my arm prevented me from launching myself at him. I felt the fight drain out of me. "You haven't been very discreet, surprising for a woman. You're good at keeping things hidden, savvy?"

I hadn't realized that they had heard me. I didn't blush, cringe inwardly or feel my stomach knot with shame. So many in same aspects I truly _was_ unaffected. Strange.

There was a moment of silence. I could tell Jack was uncomfortable - with him, there was a need to fill every gap with a babble of neverending talk. I wasn't going to give him that, wanting him to suffer for all that he had caused. The bed shifted, and I felt him perch uneasily on the end. I could feel movement behind me; his arm was hovering over my foot, hesitating whether or not to pat me on the ankle on what he probably thought would be a comforting way. I moved away slightly.

"Listen..." He began, finding the right words. This could take all night. "The word apology is tossed around so often in today's society, that I think, in my opinion-"

"What do you have to be sorry for?" I hissed at him. "You're overjoyed. You couldn't wait to be well shot of him, and now you have what you wanted. Well, congratulations, Uncle. I hope it was worth it. You have an innocent man captured, and what do you get in return?"

"I wasn't saying sorry for having young Mr Turner taken away like a little package," Jack told me, in the scolding way a teacher might lecture their students with. Oh, I felt the hatred stir within me at his casual, uncaring words. "I'm saying sorry for your arm. Is it broken, Lizzy? Allow me to look. I once considered a career in the medical field, before I realized-"

"Get _off_ me," I shrieked, feeling his fingertips brushing along my arm, examining. I attempted to twist it out of his grasp, and it felt like my arm had been split in two, it was that agonizing. "I hate you," I whispered in the darkness, defeated as he continued to see to my arm. I couldn't see his face, and perhaps that made it easier. "I wish I never came on this ship in the first place. I'd rather live the streets than live here with you. You've ruined everything, Jack. Every word you ever tell me is a lie. You don't even have any idea."

All he said was a quiet, "It's broken."

"Yes, I know it's broken you imbecile! I think I gathered that much when I heard it snap, when Barbossa dragged me away. Which you didn't have any objections about, either."

I heard him sigh. "Look, Lizzy. You need to know the whole story, you're sadly misinformed. Mr Turner - Now, c'mon, hushety hush," He threw at me when I began to protest his innocence. "Mr Turner _was_ a blacksmith, love. Was, past tense, see? When he was eighteen he took over the Grey Herald. It was his father's ship, savvy? Bootstrap Bill's. A pirate too, and great one." He let out a little chuckle. "I cannot tell you the amount of times that man lent me money!"

I was silent, listening intently. This seemed to encourage Jack to continue.

"Well, Bootstrap died. A terrible tragedy," He said sadly, and I could tell he had removed his hat to honour his dead friend. "Nasty accident at sea. Long story, very grotesque, shall tell you when you're older, yes? Will was his only son, and was sent to Port Royal, to work as blacksmith's apprentice. You keeping up, ay? Well, Will had no idea of his out of ordinary heritage. Till the crew paid him a little visit on his eighteenth birthday, telling him that he was the rightful captain of the Grey Herald. Bootstrap must've told him he was to take over... In a will... I don't know," He said simply. "All I know is that night, he became a pirate. No hesitation either. He became a _great _pirate."

"And you're telling me you never before encountered him since we pulled him aboard?" I asked disbelievingly. "If your story was true, there's no doubt you would've ran into him from time to time."

"You hit the nail on the head, young missy!" He exclaimed gleefully, as if I had brought up something crucial. "See, The Grey Herald and The Black Pearl... Well, they go way back. When Bootstrap was in command, we had parties, we had business arrangements, the works. We were like co-workers. Fun co-workers," He added happily. "But when Will took over, there was a lot of new crew recruited. Some bad eggs, you could say. No pirate in the Spanish Main wanted to be associated. He was a fearsome captain, he was. This ship endured a lot of damage at the hands of his cannons... Figuratively. Cannons don't have hands, do they?"

"You didn't answer my question," I said coldly.

"Didn't I? Oh wait! Yes, so they've gathered a nasty reputation, a lot of people want him dead. Whenever a ship comes into contact with the Herald, Will Turner goes unnoticed among his crew. Cause if any of his rivals saw him, they'd blast the ship to smithereens! Some would say there was a more of an air of mystery that way. _Nobody knew what he looked like_," Jack said, as if telling me a horror story and attempting to add a dash of suspense. "And that is why I ever encountered him before, young missy."

Pirates, I concluded, were idiots.

"Will couldn't have been a fearsome captain..." I said very slowly. "He's a gentleman. He's kind to me. He treated us all sincerely. He couldn't be."

I heard Jack shrug. "Pirates have split personalities, dear young Lizzy. For example, see our conversation we're having now? You're talking to Uncle Jack Sparrow. Yes, I know I'm a tool, and I'm bloody useless and you hate every little thing about me. We've established that. But at the end of the day, I am still your Uncle. And, y'know, I've grown pretty fond of you. I've even come to the decision that if you should die, I might probably even miss you."

"Gee, thanks."

"But then I'm _Captain_ Jack Sparrow." I heard the relish in his voice as he spoke the word 'Captain.' Nobody could ever deny how much Jack loved the sea. "Pirates, you have to be fearsome. It's in the job description. Will Turner's probably a lovely bloke normally. But Captain Turner couldn't treat you with the same courtesy."

"But... But why didn't you tell me?" I demanded, stung. "When you found out he was a pirate, you could've told me!"

"And shatter true loves one dream?" Jack cried out increduously. "Why, never. I must say, I admire you - I thought you may never find a member of the opposite sex attractive! And I never thought you'd fall in love with one! Dear sweet little Lizzy. You're stupidity is a wonder in itself, it is."

"Why then?" I spoke very quietly, no longer having the strength to raise my voice, but I'm sure Jack heard me. "If you spared me the truth of Will being a pirate, why would you get rid of him? Surely you knew what it would do to me?"

"I had to get rid of him. If the Grey Herald found us with him on board, things could've gotten ugly." We saw Barbossa pass my window, and he let out a shudder. "Er."

So it was for our safety and wellbeing? I didn't believe a word of it. "But the man said... He said that your debt was repayed..." I trailed off, hoping that he'd follow my train of thought. Fortunately, he seemed to know exactly what I meant.

"Oh. That. Very long story indeed." He tutted, patting my foot. This time I didn't move away. "Well, okay. Cut version? I happened to owe a certain somebody something very... Valuable. Very valuable, in fact. And, er, when I gave him young Mr Turner, he decided that my debt to him was repayed, yes? That I no longer had to trade that something valuable. It was settled at the handing over of Mr Turner, you could say. One day I must send him a thank-you note."

"You selfish bast-"

"Ay, ay, language, Lizzy! Don't bite until you know all the facts, you're like a badger. For the bugger was after my soul, you have to understand, and now that he has Will Turner, Davy Jones is finally satisifed."

**So Davy Jones has Will Turner aboard the Flying Dutchman! I know its quite a short chapter with not a lot happening, but I felt this conversation between Elizabeth and Jack was needed. Thanks for everybody's reviews. (:**


	8. Chapter 8

**8**

Every couple of years, Jack's friends stay with us. They could be on board for a couple of weeks or three-quarters of a year; it all depends. Unlike Barbossa, they seemed sincere. Not greed-consumed pirates; well, not _entirely_ greed-consumed pirates - each pirate is, afterall, the same. Apart from Will. I find it impossible to comprehend he would be motivated by his own gain. Thinking of him captaining a ship is as ludicrous as imagining Jack to bid farewell to the sea and join a nunnery. I tried to steer my thoughts far away from Will, and forced myself into welcoming Anamaria warmly as she appeared in the doorway.

"You foolish little maid," She said with a laugh, walking towards me. She was the only female pirate I had ever encountered, and I knew all to well how hostile she could be. Even Jack has been known to flinch away from her fiery temper - enough to rival even mine. In fact, she was an old flame of Jack's from some amount of years ago. He might have left her for my Aunt Veronica, but it's hard to say. There's a certain amount of bitterness between her and my Uncle, a lot of things resting unresolved. Still, they had forged a stable enough friendship. Stable enough for her to visit his ship willingly at least. "What happened?" She asked, eyeing my arm. It lay in a sling which Jack had made out of old bedsheets.

The past couple of days had been easier. My conversation with Jack seemed to have cleared the air, in his opinion. He brought me trays of food; food that I barely touched, to make up for five long days of starvation. It was an uncommonly kind gesture, but I still couldn't believe he had traded Will only for his own selfish gain. I let him know he was far from forgiven at every opportunity.

"Barbossa happened," I said through gritted teeth. He hadn't extended an apology my way, and thinking about him made my free hand shape into a fist. "It's a long story."

"Every story worth telling these days seems long," Anamaria sank onto my mattress with a sigh. She had the tone of a woman scorned, and I wondered if she was thinking of Jack. It made me slightly uncomfortable. She swiftly changed the subject, as if following my train of thought. "Barbossa did this?" Her expression hardened at my nod. "Want me to shoot him?"

I laughed at the offer that I knew she'd take up without a second thought. Her and Barbossa didn't get along too well. He insisted having women on board was a bad omen. We were united in our shared dislike. "Unnecessary. I think Jack would be a bit lost without his wing-man. Tell me, is Mr Gibbs and Pintel and Ragetti, and Marty here too?"

Anamaria nodded. I could see the curiosity blazing in her eager brown eyes, and I prepared myself for interrogations. When I met Anamaria at first, I was excited at the prospect of having a real friend at last, after years of isolation from anybody my own age. Within minutes of our first meeting, my hopes were dashed and my smile had faltered. She wasn't anything like me in the least, and I quickly grew tired of her quick tongue and harsh criticism. I'm sure she didn't value me as a friend either; we were two girls thrown together and had tried to make the best out of the situation. "What did you do to make him that mad? He can usually control his temper," Anamaria remarked. "He's never hit me, and I've gone out of my way to provoke him. I even stole his hat once."

"He didnt hit me," I corrected, not bothering with pleasantries. I allowed her to see my fallen face, no hint of a false smile playing on my chapped lips anymore. "He was dragging me. Forcing me along to my room. Submitting me to exile. That kind of going-on."

"Why?" Anamaria demanded, much like a spoilt child. I didn't want to talk about Will out loud. I winced whenever Jack brought up his name. The thought of retelling the entire story was just too much than I could handle. "It's a-"

"Long story?" Anamaria finished for me grimly. "I thought as much." She swept the dark hair out of her eyes. She, like me, didn't care much for vanity either. Who was there to impress on these waters? She wore a simple, dirt-smeared shirt and a pair of loose-fitting trousers, a piece of rope laced tightly around her waist, serving as a makeshift belt. "I won't press the matter, then. Does it have anything to do with Captain Turner?" She asked me.

Turner. _Captain _Turner. How could she toss the word around so carelessly? She obviously didn't understand. He was just Will, Will Turner. There was no 'Captain.' None at all.

"How did you know?"

"Please," She rolled her eyes, seeming a little too superior for my liking. "Jack told me of his little deal with Davy Jones. I had no idea you were closer to Turner though. He was in your care, wasn't he?"

I said quietly, "He was."

"What's he like?" She asked, genuinely wanting to know. I didn't like that little smile of hers, it was far too brazen. "People say he's goodlooking. They say he's charming." She waited expectantly for me to confirm it. "_Well?"_ She snapped expectantly. "Is he?"

Was Will good looking? I allowed the image to fill my mind. I tried to conjure it accurately, afraid that the memory of his face would obscure around the edges and soon I'd forget. And that was the most terrifying thing that had occured to me. I didn't want to forget. His windblown wavy hair, dancing around in the wind, the way he'd push the strands out of his eyes with the back of his hand in one quick, delicious movement. Those eyes. The way they'd focus on me, as if I were the only one in the world he wished to listen to. And not just in the moment, but for the rest of time.

His smile.

"Yes," I said, looking at my grubby dress. Picking at the unclean material and wishing it was a floor-sweeping gown, something incredibly extravagant that would swish around a ballroom as I danced. I had never danced, a fact which made my lips pucker with regret, but in my dreams I was always dancing. Watching every pair of fascinated eyes never leaving the sight of me. Was it silly, thinking of these shallow little thoughts that I didn't need yet seemed to crave? "Yes, he is."

Anamaria smirked. "You miss him," She stated matter-of-factly, with another knowing grin. "Jack told me. He said you wanted him to give you his name. He said you wanted babies with his hair and your nose."

"Jack says a lot of things," I hissed at her, wanting her to leave me in silence. "He's always been a trusted source of information, I'm sure."

"But you _do _miss him," Anamaria said, and her tone indicated she was teasing me. Charmed, really. I didn't glance up, focused on the fabric of my dress. "Turner, I mean. You better get over it," She advised, with all the wisdom of somebody carrying a broken heart. "You won't see him again. Ever."

My eyebrows pulled together at that. My hand dropped from picking at my dress, and raised to tuck a strand of sun-streaked hair behind my ear so I could look into her eyes clearly and know she wasn't feeding me lies. "How's that?"

She chuckled, treating me like a naive child with dozens of silly questions that held no true value. "He's on the Flying Dutchman. I thought Jack would've explained?" Her face brightened at the prospect of filling me in. "Davy Jones was after his soul. A hundred years of servitude on board - years ago, Davy Jones raised the Pearl from the bottom of the ocean. In return, Jack was to-"

"Yes, yes, I know!" I said impatiently. Anamaria arched her eyebrows at my outburst then continued, and there was no mistaking the frostiness her words were now wrapped with.

"Davy Jones had a lot of enemies. Your Uncle mostly. But there was also much rivalry between him and Bootstrap Bill Turner. Your William's father. Oh, the pair hated the other. Davy Jones was responsible for sinking the ship which carried Bootstrap's wife on board. That was the beginning of it. Bootstrap, in typical fashion, swore revenge. But how do you get vengeance on a man like Davy Jones? He's neither dead or alive. So killing him, sinking his ship, anything of the sort is out of the question... But he does have one weakness."

She reminded me of Jack, telling me of pirate stories with the intentions of catching my interest with all the unexpected twists. She too was disappointed with my lack of any enthusiasm.

"Yes?" I asked, seeing as she didn't elaborate. "His one weakness?"

_"His heart,_" She breathed, eyes gleaming. "This story, much like yours, is very long and I shan't bore you with it. All I've ever tell you of it is that he placed his heart inside a chest and kept the key close at all times. You stab the heart... And, well, it's bye to Davy Jones isn't it?" She laughed at the thought. "The man is evil. The seas have never known a presence like it. Bootstrap Bill - He snuck on board and took the key. Took it, like that!" She spoke admirably of Will's father, as if he had accomplished the impossible. Then she was solemn. "Davy Jones tracked his ship down and brought it to the bottom of the ocean."

"As seems to be all the range, at the moment," I muttered.

"He looked for the key among the wreckage. Nowhere! He had plenty of reason to fear. There was only one key for the one chest. It appeared to be lost. Which seemed to probably be a good thing; if nobody could locate the key, they had no chance of stabbing the heart."

"_But?"_ I prompted, sensing another twist. Anamaria seemed smug.

"Then somebody found the key. Found it without looking too. It was your William. He didn't know much of the story, all he knew was that the key was to unlock Davy Jones' only weakness. He set out to kill the man that rendered him parentless. And if you believe such tales, much like I do, he had found the co-ordinates for the chest, and set out to stab the heart when Davy Jones blasted the Grey Herald apart. To nothing but a couple of pieces of floating debris. His crew, dead. Luckily, he made a miraculous escape..."

"Escape?" I repeated blankly, caught up in the tale. "Escape to where?"

She smiled at me, and it was carved out of sympathy. "Your ship."

Then she swept out of the room, leaving me to stare, unseeing, after her.

"Where are we going?" Ragetti whispered, unable to keep his questions quiet. Most of us ignored him, and I wanted to answer. Seeking a distraction more than anything else, not out of my need to leave him in the know. "Nowhere bad, I hope?"

"It's not bad," I said, but the words sounded unconvincing. Jack's stolen compass lay in my good palm, his sword laying at the bottom of the dinghy. Mr Gibbs rowed under my navigation; Marty and Pintel exchanged bewildered looks, and I could tell they regretted offering their assistance to my pilgrimmage.

"But _where_?" He asked, tugging at my sleeves.

Of course I didn't want to tell them. Of course I didn't want to tell them we were setting Will Turner free.

**Thankyou for reading, reviewing, adding this story to your favourites - everything. (:**


	9. Chapter 9

**9.**

"Are you barking mad?" Mr Gibbs cried out increduously, eyes bulging disbelievingly at me. "Are you?"

"She _is_ a relation of Jack," Ragetti whispered loudly to Pintel. They both nodded at the realization. "I reckon it's in her blood to try and get us killed as much as possible, it is."

"Oh enough," I snapped irritably. We had stopped on a nearby island; the dingy, I realized with dismay, was far too small. We needed a ship. I was resorting to theft. But I don't see it as stealing, when I was embarking on a rescue mission. I'd be forgiven before any court once I had pleaded my case. Although, I was attempting to set free a pirate... Me and Will would probably both be sent to the gallows. Unless we weren't caught, and I didn't intend to be anytime soon. "We have to help Will!"

"You have to look at this in perspective." Mr Gibbs tried to counsel me out of my current state of mind. Poor, unfortunate fool. "We know you're a bit taken with him. We know you probably like staring into his dreamy eyes, and all of that nonsense, but it's impossible. He's on the _Flying Dutchman_." He said, cheeks filling with colour when I didn't shudder at the thought. "The _Flying Dutchman_! Are you telling me Jack never told you the stories?"

"Oh, now I remember," I drawled, heavy with sarcasm. "He told me right before tucking me into bed and giving me a cup of tea. Of course he never told me the stories! The last thing he ever did was tell me stories! What stories?" I added, unable to prevent my curiousity leaking through.

"_Now_ she wants to know!" Mr Gibbs shouted, furious. "Listen here missy. I am not, hear me, risking my own neck for a pirate much like myself who wouldn't go through the bother if the situation was reversed. You'll mourn, you'll grieve, you'll move on. You're a woman. Being attached is your thing. Let's get back to the Pearl before they've realized we've gone."

We stood on the stony beach, glaring at one another. I had a flicker of momentary doubt; What was I doing? But then it subsided like a capsized rowing-boat. I couldn't give up, surrender to Mr Gibbs' pleading words. All I had to do was set Will free - I tried not to dwell on how - and then we'd make our way back to the Pearl. Jack would have to deal with it; find another way to settle his debt. Trading a man's life for his freedom was the most selfish thing I had ever heard.

"Ms Swann?" Ragetti asked quietly, skirting around me like he was actually scared. I remember when I first encountered him when I must've been eleven or twelve, and he had grinned at me wickedly, trying to frighten me. Pintel, beside him, had pulled an assortment of faces, asking me repeatedly - "Scared yet, Poppet?" Now, it was nearly funny to see them afraid to even address me. "Pardon me bluntly saying so, but how are you going to set Mr Turner free? Davy Jones' crew will find and kill you, they will. They don't hesitate at drawing blood. Not even for a woman much like yourself..."

It wasn't much of a shocker; Pirates, I had gathered, were aggressive. I had spent my adolescence among them. I learnt to fight in the presence of them. I think I could handle it. But the four of them were staring at me as if I were utterly insane.

"I say, we get back to the Pearl and see if they've left us any rum!" Pintel said excitedly, and everybody's face brightened at the thought. I glared at them. "Just an idea," he muttered, drawing back.

"Enough of the chitter-chatter," Mr Gibbs said dismissively, grabbing hold of my arm. He glanced down at the makeshift sling and nearly laughed. "And how do you expect to fight them off, Ms Swann, with your good arm, your fighting arm I might add, out of order? You haven't a chance. Please don't make me tell Jack that his niece has only got herself killed! Do not make me."

I looked at my sling, hating Barbossa with a fiery vengeance for rendering me useless. I glanced up at Mr Gibbs. "Oh, like he would miss me!" Even as I said it, I was reminded of Jack's words as he attempted to comfort me... I have come to the decision that if you should die, I might probably even miss you... Maybe he wasn't heartless afterall. But it wasn't enough to tear me away from my plan. His words meant next to nothing. My eccentric Uncle, as always, was not going to get in the way.

"See?" Mr Gibbs said, taking advantage of my hesitation. His face softened, his crinkled eyes watching me wearily. "Come on. Let's get back, shall we? Have a little fiesta to celebrate our being spared and things of the suchlike. The oars?"

_"Fine."_

Everbody breathed a collective sigh of relief. Marty flashed me a grin, and Pintel and Ragetti wore matching grins at the prospect of being united with their precious rum very soon. We made our way to the dinghy, strewn across the shore, and they clambered in. Mr Gibbs held out a hand to held me in when I gave him one short, cold laugh.

"Tell my Uncle to not wait up," I said very icily, lips parting into something of a taunting smirk, before grabbing his pistol that was joined onto his brown leather belt before he could anticipate my next move; I then turned and broke into a run, feeling the crunch of the thousands of pebbles beneath my feet, and I darted onto the concrete, disappearing behind a row of houses. I didn't look back. I wasn't sorry.

I wasn't going to go back. I wasn't going to go back. It didn't matter how helpless I felt.

It was a sleepy little town, the exact opposite of Tortuga. It even reminded me the blurred memories of Port Royal my mind had to offer. I walked towards the harbour, to the boats floating there as if they, like the occupants, were fast asleep too. Nobody but me roamed the streets. There was nobody for me to seek help from. It felt like I was the only one in the world. I half-expected to see the shape of the Pearl looming close on the horizon. Surely Jack would've been informed by Mr Gibbs?

I should've felt relieved at the thought nobody was coming after me. Startled, I discovered that it made things considerably worse. I truly was all alone.

My plan of action was to steal a ship, sail myself to wherever the Flying Dutchman rested among these waters, find my way on board, set Will free and miracuously survive, walking away from the incident unscatched? But I refused to regret my choice. The way everybody spoke of Davy Jones told me that he was a man of no mercy, and surely if he had a vendetta for Will, he wouldn't leave him alive for long. Will had that key... The key to Jones' heart. I didn't pause to think on how disgusting it was, for Jones to remove his own heart; Like always, I only thought of Will.

I looked over the boats carefully. They were small, using for fishing excursions most likely. Nothing grand, nothing that would be even remotely of any use. I waited, as if maybe a ship would form from my imagination before my very eyes, equipt for all my needs. It was long after midnight, the brutal wind cut through my layers as effortlessly as though they were made of tissue paper, and I felt the awful sting of tears. I hated crying, even though there was nobody around to wittness my display of self-pity. Crying meant weakness, did it not? I didn't want to fall into the category of damsel in distress. But nor did I the grouping of stranded fool.

I sank to my knees, thinking, planning, wishing. Maybe at morning, something of good fortune would strike me. Things always seemed worse at night, especially when I nobody to rely on, no crew to fall back on. I bitterly thought of Mr Gibbs, Pintel, Ragetti and Marty, wondering how they could've left me here in this strange, unknown island. Sure, I acted terribly but shouldn't it be their duty to retrieve and bring me safely back to the Pearl, regardless of the kicking and screaming?

I was hurt by their lack of emotion. I was hurt by how easily they let go. I was hurt that I wasn't any close to saving Will here then I was in my room aboard the Pearl. Hating myself, I felt the tears begin to fall.

"Lost?" A man stood behind me. Shock rippled through me; I jumped to my feet as fast as I could, which maybe wasn't swift enough with my arm in a sling, and clutched Jack's sword in what I hoped was a threatening pose. The man didn't even flinch, just smiled, as we were telling jokes to one another like old childhood friends might do. "I wouldn't use that if I were you," he advised me very calmly, indifferently. "My murder wouldn't go unnoticed, fair lady, of that you can be sure of. I'll repeat myself - Are you lost?"

I ignored his question. "Are you Governor?" I asked, taking in the white wig; it shone brilliantly in the moonlight.

He laughed cruelly. "My name is Lord Beckett." He smiled unkindly at the sight of me. "But I have a certain amount of power, you can definitely imagine. Your name?" He enquired.

Lord Beckett. A man of deep authority. I was the niece of a notorious, sought-after pirate. I would be guilty by association. I was sure people knew of the girl that lived on the Black Pearl among Jack and Barbossa. "Elizabeth..." I went to say Turner without thinking, before realizing that would damn me more than if he told him of my relations to Jack. "Elizabeth..." I struggled to think, "Harper," I blurted out. It was the only name that sprung at short notice to my mind. "Elizabeth Harper."

"Ms Harper?" He looked bemused, as if he knew it was a false alias. Fortunately, he didn't press the matter. He looked around, clarifying that there indeed was nobody else loitering around. I didn't lower my sword. "It's very late for a young woman to walk alone. Many men wouldn't think twice of taking the advantage."

"Those men should be warned," I spat coldly, meeting his cold, onyx-coloured eyes with my determined stare. "I wouldn't think twice of running this sword through those that dared."

All he said was, "Indeed." He took a step closer, and I one back. He was unarmed, I noted. This reassured me, albeit slightly. "Your age, Ms Harper?"

"Nineteen."

"Your reasons for being in Merilworth?" It took a moment for me to acknowledge that Merilworth was the name of the island. How did he know that I wasn't among one of the locals? "You look like a fish out of water," He explained to me, as if shifting through my thoughts. His eyes made me uneasy. "It's clear by the forlorn expression you haven't the faintest clue where you are. And for what did you find yourself left here? Alone?" He added.

"Is it any of your business?" I dared to ask.

"As a matter of fact, it is." He smiled, savouring the moment of using his authority over a mere commoner like myself. "That is Captain Jack Sparrow's sword, is it not? I recognize it. Is your Uncle here, Ms Swann?"

I was thrown. "But how - how did you -?" I stuttered, my heart sinking. He knew who I was. I was as good as dead. What were the chances of being left on an island inhabited by a man who had easily traced me back to my fugitive of an Uncle?

"How did I know? Do not insult my intelligence, Ms Swann. Your Uncle is famous in these waters. You're the one and only niece he oh-so graciously accepted on board his ship. Yes, it's common knowledge. It's on file. You don't think we haven't been tracking you, all these years? You seem to have embraced the pirate lifestyle."

He looked me over with those unsettling eyes; taking in the sword once more, my wild-looking hair, my crumpled, unclean attire, the compass hanging onto my belt, the pistol beside it and my glowering expression. To any outsider, they would make the natural assumption I was a pirate. Of course I did. I didn't throw him the same monologue that I would've done, under any other circumstances. That I steered away from acts of piracy...

Apart from setting out to commondere a ship, sail my way to the ocean-renowned _Flying Dutchman_, battle my way recklessly through anybody that dared step into my path in order to set Will Turner free, no, Captain Will Turner free. I was well on my way to becoming a pirate. At least I wasn't obsessed with treasure... But then I recalled the foolish fantasties of a terminal dreamer, of life on a simple island, of finding that somebody real to share a lifetime of happiness with, of coming to a state of utter contentment, and concluded that not all treasure was a pile of glittering gold.

"You know nothing," I snapped.

"I'm sure your knowledge is far more impressive," He agreed. Suddenly becoming business-like. "Tell me, where are Jack Sparrow and Hector Barbossa this fine night?"

I gestured to the harbor, to the empty streets. To the nothing that was Merilworth. "Do you see them around? Do you see their ship, docked among those pitiful things? I'm alone. I came here alone."

Lord Beckett's expression was gloating, triumphant. "You're a dead woman." He promised me. He reached out for me, and my heart leapt, but all he did was brush a fingertip along the sword. "May I? This sword has threatened my life many other ocasions, similiar to this one," He informed me. "I'm positive, like then, I would be able to survive it's wrath once more."

He pulled at the sling, grabbing my broken arm and rotating it around, so that it was pressed against my back. I screamed; unable to keep the agony concealed. It felt as if he were snapping it off, the pain was like none other I had ever experienced; it cut through my arm like a blade, and I felt like I could pass out, even lose myself fatally to the all-consuming torture.

He hissed into my ear, and I could tell his mouth was carved into a triumphant smirk, "You _will_ tell me all that I need to know." Jack's sword, which had clattered to the ground, was now securely in his grasp. "Now be a good girl and don't make another sound. Tell me all that you know of Captain Turner."

**Thankyou for everything - Taking the time to read, review and everything else. I hope you're enjoying the story. (:**


	10. Chapter 10

**10.**

"I'll ask again. What is your meaning for wandering around the island? Where is the Pearl?"

I sat in a room I assumed was his office. Dimly-lit, and mostly thrown into darkness. I sat in front of his desk, where paper-work was smeared over every inch of the surface. His handwriting was scrawled across each one, and I wondered if it was all dedicated to tracing pirates. He stood beside me, gradually growing louder as I refused to answer. I could feel his silent rage, all of his frustration. What would happen to me? The gallows? Death by torture?

"I'll tell you once more, Lord Beckett." I spoke expressionlessly, as if I didn't care I was practically arrested and being interrogated. I hadn't pledged loyalty to the Pearl, but I didn't relish the idea of telling all I knew to Beckett. It would be betraying Jack. Who had betrayed me in the worst possible way, and I remember all these times wishing I'd never have to see him again. Faced with the prospect, I couldn't rise to it. "I'm lost. I was washed up on the shores. I have no motive."

I saw, in the corner of my eye, him raising his arm. I waited for the blow, but only heard him smack the table with so much force, his work was sent scattered to the floor. My arm still ached and throbbed, the pain never leaving; it burnt, red-hot, and was all I could think of. It was beyond repair now. My right hand would be forever useless from this moment onwards. It hung, limp, at my side. I tried not to move. The sling was thrown across the desk, to use as evidence. Evidence for _what_, I wanted to know. But I held my tongue.

"You have no idea who you're missing with, Ms Swann," Beckett warned me. "Co-operate with me, I ask you. In which case you shall be spared. I will give you a full pardon, enough money to compensate. You could buy a house on Merilworth, or anywhere that your heart desires. Just tell me. And no harm will befall you, I promise that much."

I wasn't swayed. Beckett seemed like a man who could convince a person of anything; could fool them into believing his act. I knew I'd be as damned as Jack if I confessed. This man before me was cold, determined, ruthless. And would stop at nothing to achieve his own goals. "And my Uncle?" I asked, voice hitching.

"I have chased Jack Sparrow across the seas since before you could crawl." He moved away, towards the glass panes of the window. I could see the moon from where I sat, and wondered for a brief moment if Will was looking up at it aswell. "He has escaped imprisonment more times than I dare to mention. You probably haven't the faintest clue half the crimes that man is guilty of committing. If I should find him, he would be getting just what he deserves. A free ticket to the gallows."

I could feel my face fall. I hated Jack, I hated him with every fibre of my heart, but the thought of him ceasing to exist was painful. It was hard to imagine a world without Captain Jack Sparrow. No matter how cruel he remained in my thoughts, there was no point denying that I didn't want him dead.

"And Barbossa. Two birds, one step. An excellent move. Two of the most notorious pirates, caught in one. You have no idea the power such a feat would bring to me."

"Would they give you an even more grotesque wig to wear?" I retorted, lip curling. He remained unfazed. Turning away from the window to face me; face hardened in a mask of bitter resentment. Directed towards me. His patience, already waining from the start, was growing thin. Soon he would tire of me. That could only mean one thing. I looked desperately around for an escape route. His office doors were locked, the keys held tightly in his clenched fist. The windows? There'd be no getting past him in time.

My sword, my pistol, my compass were on an instrument table at least ten paces away. I was weaponless. I was done for.

"Ms Swann, you mistake me for a man of mercy. You will not be leaving here until you answer me!"

Coldly, I replied, "There aren't sleeping arrangements for two. I will be leaving here, and you will give up pursuit. I have left my Uncle on the Pearl, and he didn't sail after me. I came here out of my own will. My purpose? I suppose you could say I had enough of it all. You can brandish my sword away in front of me, and demand to know why I am weighed down with my weapons. For self-defence against men like you. Now I shall tell you once more. _Let me go."_

"You are in no position to be making demands!" He snapped at me, and this time when his hand raised, it cut through the air and made heavy contact with my right cheek; my head snapped back with the overwelming force, and it felt as though my face was burning after his touch. "I'll repeat my first question, one you oh-so cleverly dodged. Where is Captain Turner?"

I pushed the hair out of my eyes, softy touching my sore cheek, and glaring at him will poorly-concealed loathing. "No idea what you're talking about," I taunted. I refused to give the satisfaction of allowing his words to affect me.

"Oh, you're a silly little girl, Ms Swann. Only seventeen and destined to end her years at the gallows..." He chuckled at the thought of my approaching my end. "Wittnesses saw you in the company of Captain Turner on the island of Tortuga. You shortly returned back to the Pearl, still accompanied by Captain Turner. Don't tell me lies, Ms Swann. Step up and tell the truth. Your Uncle raised you well."

I had no idea me and Will were seen. Tortuga was filled with such imbeciles; roaming drunks and countless brawls, to pick out those who walked around sober. I had no idea people had seen us together, and had reported it to Beckett himself. Who could do such a thing? Somebody who evidently had a problem with Will. He must've had many enemies. I nearly winced. It was so difficult to imagine people becoming rivals of Will's. Will was too gentle to gather such a group of haters, keen to see him fall...

"Captain Turner," I lied on the spot, "Visited Jack for a few days before returning to his business. We are not friends, and no more than acquintances I can assure you. I have no idea where he could be."

He ignored me. It was almost as if he hadn't heard at all. Moving onto another question. I expected there were hundreds. Again, when his back was turned I gave the room another sweeping glance. There was nothing that could aid me, nowhere that I could flee. Surely there was way? If it was Jack sat here, he would've found at least half a dozen escape routes, and he would've made a far better job of antagonizing Beckett. He had decades of irritating people behind him. "Your relationship to Will Turner?"

"Second-cousin twice removed," I drawled. I had heard Jack use that one, and found this situation nearly comical. Me quoting Jack while I sat in the room that I was to be killed in, surely. The world made sense once more. "I barely know him."

"No, I think you do. You're not exactly brilliant at covering your tracks, are you, Ms Swann? I think you were a lot closer to Captain Turner. Possibly too close. And this, right now, your laughable defiance that you're nothing to with one another, is a half-hearted attempt to spare him. Do stop the display of devotion for the young Captain. You're probably among the flanks of women he has cast a spell over. Do not labour under the ill-advised illusion that you truly meant something to the boy. Naive hearts are always broken easily. And you're nothing but a dishonoured whore for believing that he swore himself to you entirely."

And I knew he was provoking me, seeking the desired reaction. I didn't have time to process anything; my hand had curled into a fist and slammed into his face hopefully with the same amount of force he used on mine. I gripped onto his shoulder and raised my knee, hearing his grunt of pain as it made contact with _that _area, which I had much practise of inflicting harm upon. I ran. I ran and retrieved Jack's sword, Mr Gibb's pistol and the compass. I looked over to the locked and bolted doors, realizing that I was still trapped...

Before my eyes fell over the recently-vacanted window. Beckett had keeled over in pain, but anticipated my next move and ran into the windows, and it became a race. I closed the distance first, throwing open the window and smashing it into his face. All I heard was his cursing, his moans of pain, and all I could see was scarlett, turning his whitened skin into an alarming shade of red. I hope I broke his nose. "That's for my arm," I shouted over my shoulder, jumping over the other side and thanking the heavens that his office was fortunately situated on the ground-floor of the three-storeyed building.

"And what is it that pulls you towards _The Flying Dutchman_?" Sao Feng asked. I was seated at the long table, drinking from a large mug of water. He smiled pleasantly at me, and his grew showed me no hint of menace. I was among allies now. My shoulders relaxed and I smiled graciously at his kind hospitality.

"I need to free somebody," I confessed, deciding that I could've keep my plan hidden. If it was deemed impossible to him, then I would ask to be dropped off at Tortuga. I would stragetize my next move then. But I was relieved to see him look over with what could only be admiration.

"Do you?" He seemed curious. I would be more than happy to tell him the story; trust was something one could seldom find in these seas, but I had a feeling that I could trust Sao Feng, and everybody else aboard _The Empress_. I would always be thankful for them agreeing to allow me to sail with them, after finding me on the beaches of Merilworth. "A happy coincidence. That too seems to be my intentions."

I nearly laughed from elation. "And who might that be? If you don't mind me asking." I felt considerably better now that we were both attempting to free prisoners aboard that damned ship. I had Sao Feng behind me, and his obliging crew for support aswell. I didn't feel defeated, resigned to the thought Will was to perish under the care of Davy Jones. I felt a rush of excitement, feeling that I was at last placed on the willing side. I had a steady chance of succeeding. I could be with Will - Maybe even tomorrow!

It was hard to hide my smiles. My cheekbones ached, still tender after Beckett's attack, but that didn't stop me. Not even when Sao Feng replied, very calmly, "The sea Goddess, Calypso."

**As always, reviews are always appreciated.**


	11. Chapter 11

**11.**

I get a good night's rest in one of the vacant chambers - I'm too tired to even protest that it wasn't necessary. I sank into the soft mattress, my body relieved, and I was asleep before I could even climb underneath the duvet.

In the morning, I wake at dawn. The moment my eyelids fluttered open, I knew where I was, what I was meant to do and when I was to do it. Sao Feng had kept us up late, talking, planning, listening intently to his favourite advisors before revising his tactics once more.

"You," He had addressed me, seeming surprised, as if he had forgotten I was there. Seated among his crew, who hung onto every word. My head snapped up. "Elizabeth Harper. You're a skilled swords... woman?" He seemed sceptical.

Now wasn't the time to burst into another fit of temper. I nodded, slowly smiling. "Indeed I am," I replied coolly. Every pair of eyes became transfixed upon me. I was the subject of much interest - and although kind, The Empress' crew could not conceal their fascination.

I carefully made sure that I did not let slip I was Jack Sparrow's niece. I was too far caught up in the game now; and I would be ran through with my own sword if I was to tell Sao Feng of my Uncle, whom he swore revenge on. I knew because Jack used to talk of him, and there was a lot of ill feeling lingering there.

We were to launch a surprise attack. Excitement rippled down the table; eyes widened, mouths shaped into delightful smiles, and I found myself unwilling to join in. Were they so eager to be lined up and slaughtered? Everything I had learnt of Davy Jones told me that he was not a force to be reckoned with; that he was the most feared and sinister pirate sailing these seas, and evil was brewing in his blood.

And we were to launch a surprise attack on his own ship. I felt impending doom wash over me, my optimism faded into nothing but incredulous horror. But Sao Feng took no notice. The thought of a fight thrilled him, and thrilled them all, and their cries were only silenced when I shouted over the noise, "But surely we will lose?"

A blankett of quiet descended, and eyes were narrowed at me, regarding me traitourously. But Sao Feng merely laughed at my expense, urging others to join in. Wiping the tears from his eyes, he spoke to me. "Your faith in us, Ms Harper, is nothing short of insulting. We never lose. We have engaged in battle with The Flying Dutchman before. We do not fear the evil that lives there."

Before I could ask anymore questions, I was whisked away to bed with a sense of urgency by two nearly identical, raven-haired girls. They wanted me gone, not wishing for me to sour the mood and make myself a target among the gracious crew. And in the morning when I woke, they greeted me and handed me new clothes.

"We may as well throw these overboard," They said, not unkindly, as I undressed quickly and pulled on the dress they held out for me. It was true, the rags I wore were downright filthy, but I didn't feel a sense of shame. It no longer mattered to me if I walked around wearing a dirt-matted sack. I admired the dress, which fell to my ankles, running my hands along my sides to feel the soft, rich fabric. It was beautiful. How sad it was such a lovely piece of clothing was to worn in a fight.

"Thank-you," I told them earnestly. I raked my hands through my unruly hair. My scalp was caked in dirt, my sun-bleached locks falling to halfway down my back, hanging loosely, unclean. The girls, who surely must've been sisters, noticed me curling a strand of hair around my finger with distaste and offered to wash it for me. "Oh no, that it isn't necessary-" I began, but soon gave up any form of resistance.

When I joined Sao Feng and his crew on deck, I had been washed, scrubbed, brushed and cleaned within an inch of my life. Despite myself, I couldn't help but feel the perfume of the rose water they had bathed me in bring my head high, as if I feared nothing. Precisely the right attitude.

"Ms Harper." He acknowledged me, and I gave him a nod. The plan was to locate the Dutchman, then wait for night to fall where hopefully, we would appear unnoticed among the black waters. They had studied their divinations correctly, and tonight was set to be clouded over, no hint of the moonlight through the thick grey clouds. Exactly the right conditions we needed to strike effectively.

The day was spent waiting. I hated waiting, and thought of Will. Lying behind bars somewhere on that ship, prisoner, held captive against his will and forced to face the wrath of Davy Jones alone. I hoped beyond hope that Jones had refrained from harming him; that Will would just hand over the key without a fight and perhaps find myself in good graces.

But pirates didn't surrender that easily, did they?

I realized how much I missed him. It hit me when I was watching the waves lap against the side of The Empress, bringing my mind back to when I had first seen up, caught up in the tide. I hadn't known him for long - was it three or four days, I wondered? - but days didn't measure how I felt. I reminded myself of the way I felt around him; self-concious of every inch of my body, wanting to be beautiful as his kind brown eyes watched me, and how at the tiniest of things my temper would rush to surface...

Directing my anger at him was easier than accepting the truth. It gave me time to think and delay the fact that I was falling for him. And it was true, because nobody had ever made me feel more complete, at ease with the world in spite of everything. I didn't feel so aimless, my life drifting me by as the Pearl drifted through the waters. Suddenly, things were thrown into perspective. I blinked, I saw the colours, I saw vivid little details with well-attuned eyes, and found myself laughing at the littlest of things.

Enjoying the fact I was laughing at all, and laughing beside Will. Who managed to make everything better, with the shape of his smile and even when he passed me by, I found myself restless. When I entered a room, I searched for him and ignored the rest. Never resting until our eyes met, and we made one of those delicious, heart-pounding moments that I would reflect upon later, and it would keep me up just thinking about it.

Three days. It didn't take long, but life without him, these past couple of days, had been one of the worst times of my life. It was among those other dark periods which hurt to recall - the death of my parents, the day I found out I was to leave Port Royal indefinitely. And I knew I wouldn't bring myself to laugh again, or to look around at the world, at the sea I so loved, and enjoy any of it, until Will was back.

I wasn't even scared at the thought of facing Davy Jones. I was lifted to a place where fear couldn't touch me, and I gracefully evaded it's all-consuming grasp. I didn't feel defeat at the thought of creeping up on the Dutchman, and facing the deformed and menacing crew I had heard such stories of. I didn't even feel my spine tingle and the hairs on my arms raise when the sun slid down the skies. The same skies which were painted a deep shade of indigo and pink, before darkness fell over the ocean.

"It's time," Sao Feng said, relishing every moment. We sailed towards the Flying Dutchman at long last. Towards Will.

**Short chapter but I'm about to go away for the weekend so I really hope everybody enjoys this. Expect more updates soon!**


	12. Chapter 12

**12**

"Where is she?" He demanded, grabbing onto the front of the man's grubby, dirt-smeared vest and shaking him violently; too far gone to stop and care that he was hurting him. He glared around at everybody else, as if daring them to stop him, or to answer themselves. They didn't. All was quiet. He turned back to the man, a man he had known for decades, a man he called friend. In a moment of anger, all of the comradeship was swiftly forgotten in his urgency. "Why did she go? Do you know where?"

Anamaria cut in, looking at Mr Gibbs concernedly. "Jack..."

"No! He will tell me or so have me God I will kill him. Hear me?" He screamed in Mr Gibb's face. The crew had only seen Jack this angry a handful of times, and it was never a delight to wittness. "You know where she was, kind Mr Gibbs. I know you do! Kindly enlighten as to where my niece has skipped off to? I warn you mate. You'll tell me or you can make up for your hushety-hush in the fires of hell. Now tell me!"

Anamaria, silently fuming at being dismissed so effortlessly, grabbed onto his shoulder and steered him away from a hyperventiling Mr Gibbs. She looked up at him, hoping to communicate without the help of words. It was never easy for her, being so close to Jack and trying to compose herself, and breathe in and out, and act as normal as humanly possible, when inside she felt as though she would crumple due to the overwelming acceleration of her heart. "Calm down Captain," She said slowly. She didn't call him 'Captain' like a member of crew would do; afterall, the Black Pearl wasn't her home, wasn't where she devoted herself. But she called him 'Captain' to bring him into a steady state of mind. Nothing made Jack happier than his title, and the glorious sea surrounding him.

She knew this all too well.

Mr Gibbs was straightening out the front of his vest, shooting a violated look in Jack's direction. Anamaria's hand remained on Jack's shoulder until he shrugged it away, walking towards Pintel and Ragetti. "Speak," He ordered, and Pintel, at this prompting, burst into hurried speech. Words tumbling over one another in their haste to be heard, in order for him to escape the cold treatment thrown at Mr Gibbs. Anamaria watched, defeated.

"She set out to go on the Flying Dutchman - A fool's errand, I would think Captain - but Ms Swann was the most determined, she was, and we washed up on some island, lovely it was, a bit quiet, and she just - she just ran off! We tried to keep chase after her you see, but a woman's legs function much quicker, we lost her, so we... Ah... Decided to come back on ship."

"Flying... Dutchman...?"

"Yes," Pintel said, smiling eagerly. Desperate to scamper out of this situation where would he could stop feeling so guilty. "The Flying Dutchan itself, to free a young Mr - I mean, Captain Turner - most likely to satisfy the needs of her rapidly-breaking woman's heart. Like I said Captain, very determined - She was all set to commondere a ship there and then and charge towards the ship on her own. She has your compass, you see. I say we respect her wishes and send the most kindest condolences?"

"Flying... Dutchman...?"

"Erm. Yes," Pintel confirmed uneasily, looking around furtively. "The Flying Dutchman."

Jack fainted.

**I know, I'm a terrible person for not updating in over a week, and when I did update it was a really short little chapter. I'll be updating more reguarly after this week, so this chapter was just kind of an apology. You can all kindly hate me if you wish - I deserve it! Thanks for reading, you all rock.**


	13. Chapter 13

**13**

"Do not get caught."

The dinghy cuts through the glittering black surface of the water, and we all pause to reflect on Sao Feng's words. Capture would result in death. And unlike Lord Beckett, Davy Jones wouldn't drag out the process of killing us all. There would be no uncertainties.

But thinking of this man, this abdomination of a man that every pirate has come to fear, it's hard to feel afraid. I know all he is capable of, all that he wouldn't think twice of doing. To me though, he isn't Davy Jones - Captain of the Flying Dutchman. He's the man that took Will prisoner, taking him from me. And he's the man that will pay for it dearly.

The Dutchman is exactly as I imagined it to be; it looked like it had sailed directly through a hurricane, resulting in the battered sails and the worn-down paint. It stood against the night sky; striking me as a ghost ship. Where evil freely roamed, and the crew was made up of monsters. I felt the first piercing of fear, but it faded nearly instantly.

"As long as you think you can win, there's a chance that you can," Jack had instructed me once, teaching me how to handle a sword. He took weeks tutoring me, I realized. He seemed to be determined that I should learn. At the time, he didn't seem very caring, barking at me impatiently when I didn't get the hang of it at first. But now, I come to the conclusion he was helping me. Sincerely. I remembered his words as I prepared for my first real fight. "You start thinking like a loser, you start thinking of defeat, then you've pretty much lost, mate."

I wouldn't let him down.

I'd only ever seen faces like them on the pages of my childhood story-books; contorted with gaping mouths, bulging eyes and a look of menace. The illustrations would frighten me, but I glared at them as if to let them know that they wouldn't affect me. Now? My sword flashes, a glint of silver, locking in fight with this vile creation - a man who resembles something like a lizzard, his reptile features and the overwhelming smell from the scales his body is coated in nearly makes me sick.

He raises his arm - if you could call it an arm, it looks more like a disgusted stump of decaying flesh - and in that moment I act fast, tightly clenching my sword and jamming it through his stomach, pulling it back out and pushing him away like a discarded toy that I outgrew. His body falls to the floor and I run across it. There's no need to glance over my shoulder to verify the fact that he is dead.

The crew is in fight; Sao Feng dwells three at once without breaking a sweat. I've caught in the middle of chaos, running through the madness, ducking whenever a weapon hurtles my way, falling to my knees when swords fly out to cleanly hack my head from my shoulders. I see Tai Huang, and shout to him, "Where is he?"

He fires a pistol into the gathering of fighters, and the shot could have easily hit one of his own. He isn't wracked with worry, and looks up to answer me. He knows who I mean. "He's prisoner!" He shouts back to me increduously, as his sword cuts cleanly across man's lower torso. "Where do you think he would be?"

Below deck. Why had I thought otherwise? But the prospect of venturing further into the ship wasn't an idea I warmly welcomed. Davy Jones was yet to appear, and I watched out for him always. He couldn't die through normal means; the only way was to stab the heart, which was stashed away at a hidden location, the key safely with Will. So engaging into fight with Davy Jones wouldn't be worth it, but I so longed to punish that man. I'd never felt the need to hurt somebody so much. I wanted to cause the pain that I myself had felt when he took Will, and the whole world away.

I made my way through the fight, my good hand brandishing my sword, before I threw open the nearest door and down the flight of wooden steps. Down here, you couldn't be able to tell there was a fight raging upstairs. It was quiet, eerily so. The corridors and several accessible rooms were empty. The ship was rocking back and forth, and I found it hard to keep my footing. Where would he be? On the Pearl, I knew where the cells were. On this ship, every passage seemed identical to the last. A clever design, with the intentions to make a person mad? To eliminate the chance of escape? Another indication of the twisted mind of Davy Jones?

"Will?" I shouted, because I couldn't waste a second more. The sooner we fled, the better. I didn't care if I attracted unwanted attention. As long as he heard me, I could follow the sounds of his voice. I whirled around, then back again, feeling as I were trapped inside a maze, trying every route and finding myself even more tragically lost. I prayed my voice could travel to where he was, wherever that may be. The hand holding my sword tightened. He had to be alright. My broken hand throbbed fiercely; it had been knocked several times, and the bone ached. I surged fowards, trying to ignore the pain which would surely be the end of me. The arm had gone through so much damage I'd never regain control over it. "Will? Will?"

I heard nothing.

And for the first time, I truly felt scared. It was the kind of fear that wasn't fleeting, it stayed with me. Weighing down on my shoulders, constricting around my heart and leaving little room to breathe. What if I was too late, or if something had happened? Maybe Davy Jones had acted swiftly, killing Will and coming into possession of the key once more. He would've tossed Will's body into the seas carelessly, gleefully, to be washed up on a beach somewhere. The same waters I had just travelled through. He couldn't be dead. Maybe I was in the wrong section of the ship. There were so many passages, there were more rooms to try.. "Will? Will?"

The terrible resounding silence which followed confirmed my deepest fears. Tears, that had threatened to spill over, fell right now. There was no shame in crying. Before I thought it a sign of weakness, but now it symbolizes a great sadness. Each teardrop was grieving, struggling, mourning. I nearly fell to the floor in the shock and pain, when a woman's voice called out to me, heavy with such an accent that I almost couldn't hear her at first.

"He's here, don't you know. You're Elizabeth, aren't you... You're exactly as he described. Well, a little worse for wear but I cannot blame you."

"Wha- Calpyso?" I walked towards the voice. Down the passage and into a darkened room, where a woman sat peacefully behind the set of bars containing her. She was the woman Sao Feng had been searching for. The Sea Goddess, he had told me. Also held captive by Davy Jones. More importantly, she knew where Will was. She struck me as somebody that dabbled in witchcraft; but I didn't let that prevent me from falling to my knees in front of her. I didn't care if she was a demon, a force sent from hell. If she knew Will, I would push aside whatever she was. Nothing else mattered. "You know where Will Turner is?"

She nodded, smiling slowly, displaying several chipped teeth. They were nearly as bad as Barbossa's, but not quite there. I eyed her with a deep curiousity, taking in her dreadlocked hair, the long, multi-coloured dress, the beaded necklaces draped around her neck, and the knowing look that emblazoned her face. "Elizabeth Swann. I was a wondering when you'd be making the trip here... You shouldn't have come, you know. It's a dangerous place to be. But I knew that you'd come anyway..." The drifted away, as she deliberately wanted to trail off, thoughtfully, unfinished.

I asked, "Where's Will?" breathlessly. I sounded on the edge of hysteria.

"He talked about you." She said suddenly. No longer did she sound peaceful and quiet. The tone was sharpened around the edges, gravely serious. As if she were delivering a death sentence. But then the woman smiled at me, an act of kindness, but each word she spoke infuriated me further. She acted as if she had not heard me. I asked again, and again, and each time she merely cackled at me. "He's a fine boy. A touch of... destiny about him, don't you think? You can tell from looking at him that the future has much in store for him..."

"But where is he? Is he close?"

Calypso nodded, eyes gleaming. "Davy Jones will kill you," she said sadly, tutting at the thought. "Such a waste. That man will murder you in cold blood, leaving your corpse to the currents of the sea. He'll kill young Mr Turner if he can... That man is without a soul," She whispered to me. "And Will is in his chambers. There's no way. You shouldn't have come. The effort is in vain. And such a waste..."

I stopped listening when she mentioned the whereabouts of Will. The dread descended upon me, and I nearly winced. I knew, in some faraway and further ignored corner of my mind - the voice of reason - that Will would be kept somewhere unreachable. The Captain's own chambers. Davy Jones, although I was yet to receive the pleasure of meeting him, had done it intentionally, almost as if he knew I had come to free Will, and wished to torment me. Drive me to the brink of insanity? I was halfway there. But I wasn't going to let him, the threat he may or may not pose, prevent me from going regardless.

The hand clutching my sword whitened even more, as I held onto the handle tighter. An act of utmost defiance, a refusal to cower away. Calypso saw. It seemed she saw everything. She did not protest to what she knew I was thinking, but met my eyes with a look of the most deep disapproval. "Your mind is made..."

"Yes."

"Then I shan't sway it into the direction of sense."

"Appreciated," I replied drily, rising to my feet. "Now, where are Davy Jones' chambers?"

**I felt bad after posting such a short chapter, so I rushed to write this in the fifteen minutes I had free. I really hope you all enjoy it. As always, thanks for reading!**


	14. Chapter 14

**14.**

I was dreaming. My head was laying on something soft, I was wrapped up warm. I didn't move an inch of my body, I didn't want to break this moment, and how I felt so comfortable, as if I were floating on a bed of air. It would explain why I felt so light and weightless. Maybe everything was a dream. A long, vivid and life-like dream. It was possible I was tucked away at home, my mother and father asleep somewhere nearby. I should feel overjoyed at the thought.

A pierce of pain, that was nothing to do with my arm as I slowly become aware that it's still burning. It can't be a dream. If it was another fragment of my over-active imagination, that would mean Will did not exist except in my fantasties. And he had to exist. It couldn't be a dream anyway, logic reassured me. My arm was broken. A clear sign, a sure indication. Barbossa had broken my arm the night after Will was captured. I felt a fleeting rush of joy. Regardless of everything else that happened, it was all real.

I didn't have the strength to raise my eyelids, although my mind was so busy, whirring with a thousand thoughts, I wouldn't return to the peaceful sleep I had woken from. Was I on the Pearl? The Empress? The Flying Dutchman? I couldn't hear the sounds of the sea, the waves throwing themselves against the ship. I couldn't hear Jack barking orders and Barbossa arguing back. I couldn't hear Sao Feng plotting, his whole crew rushing around in a flutter of activity. And I definitely couldn't hear the sounds of battle, of swords locking into fight. Besides, I concluded, if I was on the Flying Dutchman, would Davy Jones really allow me a good night's rest?

This bed wasn't familiar, either. My body sank happily into the soft mattress, sinking into the comfort that I oh-so craved. The duvet pulled around me was made of silk, and my good hand brushed against the material, my fingertips were as curious as I. Surely only royalty slept in such comfort? On the Pearl, the mattresses were rock-hard and pitifully thin. I used to receive terrible backache, but I'd grown accustomed to the uncomfortableness. On the Empress, the beds were considerably better but not this remarkable. And I doubted those monstrous creatures on the Flying Dutchman slept at all.

I was so bewildered, I pushed aside how glorious it all felt and opened my eyes. The first thing they registered as they blinked rapidly was the walls. They were painted a pastel pink, so faint that it could've been white with the merest touch of peach. This confirmed what I had been mulling over. Pirate ships did not have pink walls. I would know. Gently, I turned over and looked out of the window. Sunlight poured through a gap in the curtains that hadn't been closed, and I welcomed the morning sunshine, bathing in the lovely heat. I climbed out of the bed, my toes curling as my feet lowered onto the floorboards.

There wasn't much furniture, I noted. There was a bookcase, full of the big kind of volumes that my father used to read. The pages would be yellowed from age, and you'd have to blow off the collection of dust gathering on the heavy front-cover. There was a chest of drawers, and above it a mirror. It was there I wandered, eyes sweeping across the room to make sure there was nothing I had missed. I looked into my reflection, and my mouth drops in horror. There's a gash running from hairline to my jaw on the left side of my face. The wound was thick, swollen and puckered at the edges. What had happened? I searched my mind, but couldn't remember how I acquired such a grotesque mark.

It was hard to look at anything but the cut, but my reluctant eyes looked at my hair, falling in natural little waves, the way it only did when it was newly-washed. I had been bathed? I was also in different clothes. That beautiful dress I had before, courtesy of Sao Feng's maids, was gone, and in it's place a simple white night-gown which fell to my ankles. And - how had I not picked up before? - my arm was in a sling, a new one, carefully bound up in the way a doctor would bandage it. Was it possible that I was in hospital? I may have fallen overboard, washed up on some island and the locals may have brought me to a doctor? That was the only solution that made any sense.

The door opened rather suddenly; I jumped in alarm. It was a man, his wavy hair pushed aside, brown eyes smiling at me even as his mouth remained still, on the verge of shaping into a smile, but not just yet. He held a tray of breakfast, and the scene was so reminiscent of when I had brought him breakfast, in what seemed like a lifetime ago. I was rooted to the floor, stunned, feeling my heart race and my throat thicken, and I coudn't think of any words to say. Tears had sprung to my eyes. Of all the times to cry, I picked now. But I couldn't help it. I was so moved.

His kind eyes which always saw everything noticed this. And his eyebrows pulled together, he rested down the tray of fresh fruit and water, and closed the distance between us in a few short strides. He pulled me towards him, catching me in a embrace, careful not to knock my arm. I leant against his shoulder, head resting under his chin, as he gathered his arms around me. In the years that were to come, I would always return back to this moment. It was the first, the start of the beginning, and I had never felt so safe, so complete, as I did in his arms.

And I didn't know if he loved me. I didn't know how we had gotten here. I didn't know where he was, and I didn't know what he was thinking as he held me, and my tears dropped onto his shoulder. All I cared about was that he was with me, and he was safe. As long as I stayed with Will, I didn't care what happened.

**Another update! I'm sorry if everybody's a bit confused but I'll explain in the next chapter or so. Elizabeth's with Will! I really wanted them to finally get together after thirteen long chapters. I hope you liked it, and thanks for reading - as always. (:**


	15. Chapter 15

**15.**

"I thought I had raised her nicely, you know? Taught her a decent lesson about deceiving people. I said, deceive anybody but _me_. Fool everybody - but _me_. I was a good Uncle! Maybe not the best, but Veronica, God bless her soul and all that, never told me she had a niece. What's more, a teenage one! What I did was pretty admirable, in my humble opinion. And Lizzy - she's a good kid. Why would she do something like this?"

Anamaria and Jack sat on deck in the early hours of the morning. She watched him carefully. He didn't look like a worried parent, he seemed more hurt, but trying to conceal it, and failing badly. She knew that Jack had a heart. Maybe she was the only one that knew what a big heart he actually had. There were three things Jack Sparrow loved. The sea - now that was expected. He paraded himself around as a captain as if he were royalty. Rum - naturally. And the third, his niece, Elizabeth.

He swigged from his bottle, and he looked right at her. But he wasn't looking, but stared through her, as if she were nothing but vapor. Anamaria finished her bottle of rum, downing it in one. She hated the stuff. It was an awful, awful drink. Whenever she went into a pub and ordered, she always asked for rum though. She once heard Pintel and Ragetti speculating as to why. "I think," Pintel would say, always voicing his opinions on things, "it's her connection to Jack. You know? His favourite drink and things of the suchlike; she drinks the rum, she's close to him."

Ragetti laughed harshly. "Oh, shut up!"

Anamaria shook the memory away.

"... I once stole her a pearl necklace," Jack was saying, monologuing. Thinking of Elizabeth. Anamaria carefully didn't bring to surface the fact that she had informed Elizabeth of Davy Jones' weakness; his heart, the chest, everything. It seemed like a minor, insignificent detail, and yet one Jack wouldn't appreciate. His mind had a strange way of processing things, and it could be that he would be enraged at the thought. "On Christmas Day, I once gave her food poisoning. Can't imagine why. Turkey's meant to be pink, isn't it?"

Anamaria nodded, trying to smile. Jack Sparrow to any outsider would seem a typical, although eccentric, captain. He didn't like people knowing how he felt, and whisked his emotions away. Seeing him like this was one of the handful of ocasions when he dropped the pirate act, and just became Jack. The other times were long ago, the years before Veronica, and Veronica was the undoubted love of his life. She knew her. Red-haired, a pretty, although plain face, with a kind smile and a caring nature. There was a certain child-like innocence, and when she found out Jack was a captain, she didn't care in the slightest, despite all the risks.

And they married eachother. A quiet ceremony, which Jack would go on to say wasn't valid, seeing as he was intoxicated at the time and therefore not responsible for who he may or may not marry. Most people believed him. Anamaria didn't. On his wrist, below the 'P' branded into the skin, were her initials, tattooed into the skin. There was also a wedding ring, his wedding ring, hanging around his neck. People thought Jack Sparrow was heartless? He was anything but.

"She'll be fine," I reassured him, softly. "I know she'll be."

He looked at me, arched his eyebrows and carefully tilted his hat. He was, as I knew, uncomfortable. Very aware of himself, and he disliked the situation, and would blame me for it, for me pitying him, sympathizing him, trying to comfort him. He got to his feet, making sure he didn't forget the rum, and walked away. My heart lurched. But he was merely thinking, planning. Stepping foot on Davy Jones' ship was suicide. Elizabeth had a good head on her shoulders, she wouldn't be so foolish. But Anamaria was surprised that Jack would plan the same thing, all to save his niece.

"You can't go on the ship," I blurted out suddenly. "Your debt may be settled, but if Jones saw you, of course he'd kill you. Cleanly there and then, executing any plans you might have of double-timing him, of tricking him once more. The only way to get rid of you for good is death. It's a fool's errand," I declared.

He didn't listen. When did he ever? He shouted for Barbossa and for Gibbs. Without his compass, he sailed the seas without a heading, maurading around like a lost sailor. I heard him issue the orders, instructing them to find the Flying Dutchman now, in the middle of the night. He then flounced away - still drinking his oh-so precious rum.

I picked up my bottle, threw it to the floor, watching it shatter into a thousand bite-sized pieces, and stormed into the opposite direction.

**Second update of the day! Hope you like it. (:**


	16. Chapter 16

The ship was silent, not a sound but the lashings of the tide. Not even the faintest echo of raspy

breathing. Such silence was not uncommon; however, it was broken by an inhuman screech - a noise

the crew knew to be the result of Davy Jones' foul rage. His temper, yes, they were much used to by now - but never on such a grand scale. The worst omen imaginable…

The captain himself descended a staircase - several members of crew that had appeared, not out of genuine concern but of fear, fear that if they didn't arrive on the scene they would be punished, scuttled out of the way, leaving him a clear path to storm through.

"William Turner!" Davy Jones screamed, the name ripping from his throat, rippling throughout The Flying Dutchman and possibly throughout the seas.. Miles away, tucked away on the quiet island of Lawndes Bay, Will slept beside Elizabeth Swann, carefully making sure that he didn't brush against her broken arm, a key hanging around his neck - the cold metal placed gently over his heart.

**I haven't updated in absolutely ages, and when I do it's only three paragraphs! Feel free to hate me, I definitely deserve it. This summer's been so busy but incredible, I hope everybody's having a good time! I'll try to update more often but this month I turn sixteen, and start college a week later, but I'll promise that I'll keep updating! As always, thanks for reading.**


	17. Chapter 17

**17.**

I woke up in the middle of night, unsure as to when I had even fallen asleep. For a moment, I had forgotten all that had taken place. Then, I had an awful stab of fear - what if it wasn't real? Maybe I had trespassed into the world of delusions afterall. I felt bile rise in my throat, I didn't dare to breathe. It _must_ be true. It wasn't a dream, couldn't have been… If it was my imagination had exceeded itself, because never could it provide me with something so beautiful, never in a million years.

Then I hear him breathing. I turn around carefully, making sure not to move my arm, and see him lying beside me. The relief I feel is so overwhelming I nearly burst into tears; sheer elation zigzags through my veins, and I bite down on my lip to stop myself smiling so hard. Moonlight fell through the gap in the curtains, casting a pale shine across the side of his face that those locks of wavy hair didn't conceal. Gently, I swept his hair out of the way, and my heart sank at the sight. Maybe I would never get used to the way he made me feel. It was impossible to not be rendered breathless.

We had talked for hours. Finally we had stepped out of that embrace, just looking at each other. My cheeks didn't taint with red at the closeness. It was too natural, easy as breathing. "Here, lean on me," he had said, an arm around my waist as he led me to the bed. I didn't dare for one moment to look away. I wanted to laugh and cry simultaneously. I wanted to jump up and down, I wanted to tether myself to him so he'd never leave my sight again. "I'm sorry," he said to me, and I had frowned.

"For what?" I asked, searching his gaze.

"For leaving you," he spoke softly, voice full of regret. I didn't like seeing him so pained before me, wearing a look I could only identify as long-suffering. He then swept a stray piece of hair out of my eyes, curling the strand gently around his fingertip before allowing it to bounce away. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but there was just so much sorrow in those eyes; eyes that I remembered as being full to the brim of kindness. Oh, was still as handsome. Perhaps even more than I had recalled. But I couldn't deny those subtle changes that had left their mark. Instead of wondering how I came to be here, suddenly away from The Flying Dutchman with nothing but a marred face to prove I was actually there, I'm tormented by what could have caused Will to appear so… conflicted. "I didn't want to. Believe me, it was the last thing I wanted."

"I know," I told him, wishing he wouldn't apologize. Desperate to reassure him. "It wasn't your choice. The fault rests with Jack. You have nothing to feel sorry for."

"Your arm?" He then asked, and it sounded as though he felt sorry for the break. "I looked at it, and saw that it was broken. I tried to bandage it the best I could - medicene isn't really my forte." There was a quick flash of that grin I had missed. It didn't matter it didn't extend to those eyes. "How did you break it?"

My memories of Barbossa breaking my arm were clouded over and unclear. It seemed my entire life up to this point, in this lovely pastel-coloured pink room, was a faint blur. Trying to remember was like peering through muddy water, and I didn't wish to strain myself under the effort. I didn't want to think of Barbossa or Jack or anybody else; all I wanted to do was focus, body and soul, on Will. Couldn't he allow me that? I smiled at him. "Oh, it was nothing really. Barbossa..." I trailed off, watching his kind expression harden at the mention of the captain's name. "It was nothing," I said very quickly.

"Elizabeth..." I loved the way he said my name, caressing it in that voice of his. I found my eyelids had lowered, listening to him speak. They re-opened in a rush.

"He broke it," I admitted. I didn't want to keep secrets from him, not now, and not ever. Will's mouth pressed into a thin line, his eyes looked at my cast, and travelled slowly back to my face. He gave me that look... I wish I knew what it meant. It wasn't pity; he didn't look me over in deep sympathy. It was a longing, as if he were fighting something back, and oh-so wished for... Me? No, he couldn't. "It was after you left." I blushed. Dare I tell him about the near-pyscotic fit I took? I did.

"Elizabeth..." He said again, and there was no mistaking the pain.

"It was awful," I said, thinking back to that time, a prisoner in my own home. The fact that Jack and Barbossa refused to acknowledge me for days didn't even concern me, it was not knowing where Will was, where he was. "I didn't know what to do. They told me…" I hesitated, but I knew I had to bring it up eventually. Will was here with me, and that was all that mattered. "They told me the truth. I know you're a pirate."

He doesn't seem surprised, and there's that smile again. Oh, I can't resist this temptation. "I thought that would come up," he said with a sigh, shaking his head. How can he be a pirate? He's still the same as he was before, the same he remained in my memories. Absolutely perfect, so handsome it hurt. An old-fashioned gentleman that handled me as delicately as a doll. "I wanted to tell you, but it's not something you can casually slip into conversation…"

My smile mirrored his exactly. "You could've mentioned it over breakfast. I did make your meals, Captain Turner, and you didn't even tell me what you did for a living!"

"My apologies, Ms Swann." He returns the playful nature. "I promise you now, though. I'll never hide anything from you again."

From one look at him, I know he's telling the truth.

We couldn't delay the inevitable - the atmosphere becomes considerably more serious when I broach the topic of Davy Jones. At the mention of that man's name, Will's eyes cloud over. I've never seen him harbour hatred towards anybody before, and my hand laid over his. "I can't remember it. I can't remember anything. The last thing that's clear is… Calypso. She was prisoner too… Oh, but the things she said, I can't remember them. Did I by any chance hit my head?"

"Yes, actually," Will said, jaw clenching. "Calypso told you where I was, and you came in - Jones had me kept in his chambers. I was seconds away from being run through with his sword. He's not a man of much patience. He's not even a man at all." Will says, a touch of bitterness layering his words. "Then… I see you. I thought I was dreaming. Maybe I was already dead, I didn't know. Then, Jones knocked you out cold - so fast I couldn't see him move. I blinked, you were across the floor…" The hand holding mine tightens.

"In that moment he was distracted, I managed to grab my sword and I just… I just _launched_ myself at him. I couldn't see sense, there was just this fury, I was ready to kill him. Even though…" He stops himself, but I knew what he was going to say. _Even though Jones can't die. _"I thought it was all over. You just can't defeat Jones, it's impossible, the whole ocean fears him. I was knocked to the other side of the room - he raised his sword to strike me there and then…"

I flinched, even though I knew the outcome of this story I was still on edge, imagining Will in such a position, inches away from death.

"Sao Feng and his crew burst into his chambers. There was no time to think. I was able to pull myself to my feet and made it my priority to get you out of there. I'm sorry to tell you I committed theft." He grinned.

"Never!" I gasped. "A pirate actually stealing something? Get out of here."

He laughs. "I took one of Sao Feng's dinghys. I'm sure he won't mind. The nearest island was here - Lawndes Bay." He said, before I could ask. "This is my house. I'm hardly ever here, but it's my escape from it all. My mother came into ownership of many properties in this region, before she died. But this is my home."

My eyes blink, still sleep-deprived even though we've both been asleep for hours. My head falls back into the luxurious white pillows, and I pull the duvet up so that I reaches my chin. It's hard to return back to dreams when I no longer feel the need to. Why should I feel the crazy rush to fall back into dreams of Will, when he's here with me now. I'm definite I fall back asleep, still smiling.

"Can I come in?" I ask tentatively, touching my knuckles three times to the wood-panelled door before letting myself in. You don't often find Jack in his captain chambers in the middle of day - usually, he'd prefer to be in the middle of it all, breathing in the sea air, doing what he loved. My surprise is driven to an incredible new volume when I see he's without a beverage. There's no telltale bottles of rum lined up across his cluttered desk - he's just sitting there, ferociously writing - _writing!_ - with his child-like scrawl.

"Ana!" He said without looking up. He held up his left hand indicating me to wait for him to finish. There are several maps spread out in front of him. And it appears he's making notes. I'm surprised Jack can even read - although he doesn't strike me as the illiterate type, he's not the kind of captain you'll see deeply engrossed in reading. He'd usually give Barbossa that unfortunate task. "_Maria!_" He threw down his quill, greeting me with his usual cheery smile. "And what do I owe the great pleasure of your company?"

"Mr Gibbs is thinking of a trip to Tortuga," I inform him. I'm still annoyed Gibbs would treat me as a messenger, employed to deliver invitations and carry back replies, but due to the circumstances I don't really mind. Brutal truth be brutally told, I was looking for an excuse to visit Jack anyway. He'd been suspiciously absent from dinner last night, had retired into his room early and seemed stone-cold sober. This is never a good sign. "To raise moral. Mostly yours," I added. "Game?"

Jack shook his head, removing his hat and emptying the contents - a thick cluster of sand fell to the floor. "I think I shall give it a miss. Terrible headache. Cannot risk being in crowds of more than five people - I fear the worst."

"That's not like you," I observe, leaning against the doorway. Jack once again doesn't bother to meet my gaze. Stung, I watch him shuffle through more of his precious papers, knowing with an uneasy twist and turn of my stomach his thoughts still lie with Elizabeth. I'm just as concerned about her as the rest of us - however, my sympathy doesn't go out _that _much. If she wanted to get herself killed in the name of love, fine. Others had been through much more, and managed to keep it all together.

Well. Just.

"Shall we have a drink here?" I offer. "I'm not up for big crowds either. That headache is making it's rounds of the ship," I joke, feeling increasingly nervous. "It'll take your mind off things."

At first, I thought he was going to say no. Slowly, his head raises. There's a glimmer of confusion, but he doesn't seem opposed to the idea. He carefully places his hat back on, and with that Jack smiles at me. It's a smile not many people get to see. If you ask me, they're missing out. It's not one of school-boy deviance or his usual, care-free grin. It's the smile I've seen him use with only two. Me, once upon a time, and his late wife. There's a certain tenderness surrounding his worn-out features; those searching brown eyes regard me softly.

"That'd be nice…" He stands, gesturing to the vacant seat opposite me and dipping into a bow. It didn't matter how flamboyant he acted - because that's a fact that would never be altered - but as I slipped into a seat, and poured us both a glass of well-needed rum, and I raise my glass to his to clink them together, he's still watching me; those searching brown eyes regarding me softly.

**Second update of the night, so I hope you enjoy. As always, thanks for reading (:**


End file.
